LIBI 


UNIVERSITY 
CALIFORNI, 
SAN  OIESO 


due-  /f*l 

0 


THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS  -^.^ 

3SO3 


Cromwell,  I  charge  thee  fling  away  ambition; 

By  that  sin  fell  the  angels."  / 


THE 
SIN   OF  ANGELS 


BY 

MARTHA  GILBERT  DICKINSON  BIANCHI 

^ 

Author  of  "A  Modern  Prometheus,"  "The  Cuckoo's 
Nest,"  "A  Cossack  Lover,"  etc. 


NEW  YORK 

DUFFIELD  &  COMPANY 
1912 


COPYRIGHT,  1912, 
BY  DUFFIELD  &  COMPANY 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  A  VACANT  TABLE  ......       i 

II    RALEIGH    PAYNE 18 

III  AT  SKY  HIGH    .......     37 

IV  RIDING  ALONE 59 

V  THE  MESSENGER  OF  BELGRADE     .      .     79 

VI  SHADOWS  CAST  BEFORE     ....   106 

VII  THE  WINTER  OF  THEIR  DISCONTENT  125 

VIII  THE   WHITE   SWALLOW     .      .      .     .141 

IX  "SOME    LITTLE    TALK    OF    ME    AND 

THEE" .     .   154 

X  ON  THE  PILLOW  OF  DOUBT    .     .     .173 

XI  A  COMMENTARY  IN  CARDS     .     .     .   197 

XII     FORGETTING 216 

XIII  A    WARNING 240 

XIV  ABSOLUTION 256 

XV    A  PURITAN  SABBATH 271 

XVI    TRENT 294 

XVII  Two  BANKS  OF  A  RIVER    .      .     .     .312 

XVIII  THE  WISDOM  OF  A  DREAM  ....  333 

XIX    THE  POSTMAN 349 

XX    AN  ISSUE  RAISED 366 

XXI  THE  WAY  OF  THE  WORLD  ....  385 

XXII    AN  ISSUE  EVADED 414 

XXIII  THE  TEST  OF  MONEY 436 

XXIV  THE  ROYAL  WAY  OF  THE  CROSS  .      .  457 
XXV    THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 483 


TO 

GASTON 


THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 


CHAPTER  I 

A   VACANT    TABLE 

HIGH  noon  at  Piippe's  marks  social  high- 
tide  during  the  season  at  Carlsbad.  At 
evening  Society  breaks  up.  In  the  morn 
ing  it  is  disintegrated,  drinking  its  prescribed  wa 
ters  at  springs  warranted  to  reduce  undesirable 
avoirdupois,  and  reproduce  an  appearance  of  lost 
youth  if  not  lost  illusion;  —  or  being  borne  in  the 
seclusion  of  bath-chairs  to  the  various  treatments 
incidental  upon  a  "  cure."  At  noon,  however  cas 
ual  or  however  exclusive  the  guest  may  be,  Piippe's 
is  the  universal  rendezvous  with  all  the  world. 
Here,  as  at  the  Casino,  the  desultory  crowd  is  more 
aristocratic  than  at  Monte  Carlo,  less  dull  than  that 
of  an  English  watering  place.  There  is  a  certain 
sanity,  a  self-conscious  distinction  observable  in 
the  "  public  "  on  parade,  and  while  to  the  naked  eye 
of  the  uninstructed,  the  men  and  women  who  pass 
and  re-pass  may  present  no  ostentatious  claim,  the 
initiated  often  know  their  titles  to  be  of  Europe's 
proudest.  The  breeding  of  the  women  alone  is  at- 


2  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

tested  by  their  quiet,  beyond  need  of  that  louder 
personal  advertisement  so  frequently  adopted  by 
their  sisters  of  a  self-made  democracy  or  the  half- 
world,  so  the  atmosphere  gains,  in  spite  of  the  inev 
itable  human  motley  of  any  cosmopolitan  crowd.  A 
King  at  home  is  always  a  King,  though  he  discard 
a  crown  for  an  Alpine  hat  and  style  himself  the 
Count  of  Nothing-in-Particular.  And  at  Carlsbad 
royalty  habitually  masquerades  among  common  hu 
manity;  enjoying  the  secret  of  Polichinel  shared 
in  good  humour  with  all,  since  the  cares  of  state 
dare  not  approach  the  charmed  circle  of  nominal 
disguise. 

On  a  certain  noontide  in  July  nearly  a  dozen 
summers  ago,  the  difficulty  in  securing  tables  or 
even  single  places  for  dejeuner  was  frankly  per 
plexing  the  management.  The  maitre  d'hotel  was 
in  despair.  The  director  had  even  condescended 
to  leave  his  sacred  retreat,  where  he  dwelt  as  a 
myth  upon  Olympus  no  matter  what  the  emergency 
below,  and  stood  frowning  at  a  situation  so  serious, 
—  and  in  reality  so  much  to  his  entire  satisfaction, 
covering  his  complacency  with  a  manner  of  anxiety 
that  deceived  no  one.  Many  breakfast  parties 
made  up  of  varying  nationalities,  aristocratic  and 
assured,  were  standing  unreckoned  in  the  gala 
swarm  that  ate  and  drank  unconcernedly  before 
them.  It  was  warm  and  bright  after  several  days 
of  cold  rain,  so  the  terrace  of  course  was  earliest 


'A  VACANT  TABLE  3 

filled.  The  inner  balcony,  glass  enclosed,  was  over 
flowing  until  even  the  musicians  had  been  routed 
and  placed  upon  the  stairway  to  relieve  a  little  more 
of  the  coveted  space.  The  great  main  floor  of  the 
caravansary  was  alive  with  colour  and  motion. 
The  summer  hats  of  the  women  gave  an  effect  of 
gay  parterres,  and  the  white  flannels  of  the  men 
mingled  brightly  with  the  uniforms  of  many  grades 
of  officers.  Two  places  only  remained  vacant. 
These  were  at  a  table  by  a  most  desirable  window, 
and  to  them  all  new-comers  were  instantly  at 
tracted,  only  to  be  warned  suavely  away  by  the 
attending  garc.on,  whose  especial  responsibility  it 
seemed  to  be,  and  who  appeared  rather  complacent 
than  annoyed  as  the  attention  exacted  by  his  cov 
eted  location  increased. 

Two  men,  who  had  nearly  finished  their  break 
fast  at  a  table  near,  delayed  from  mere  curiosity  to 
see  for  whom  it  was  being  reserved.  A  French 
man  and  woman,  who  were  waiting  to  slip  into 
their  places  shrugged  impatiently  and  moved  on, 
—  the  woman  murmuring  "  Bete ! "  under  her 
breath.  An  Austrian  officer  next  approached,  with 
his  wife,  evidently  a  Viennese  from  the  beauty  of 
her  feet  as  she  drew  back  her  skirt  to  be  seated, 
with  a  gesture  of  authority.  The  two  men  looked 
at  her  with  interest,  but  instantly  the  deprecating 
garqon  had  bowed  them  off  and  re-set  the  chair  at 
its  exact  original  angle.  The  table  was  not  re- 


4  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

served  for  them.  The  Frei-Herr  of  untold  acres 
must  seek  further.  A  breathless  German  next  at 
tempted  it,  insisting  loudly  that  a  third  place  be 
laid  on  the  end  for  his  near-sighted  daughter,  who 
had  already  caught  up  the  "  carte  du  jour  "  and  was 
holding  it  close  to  her  nose,  expostulating  as  to 
the  dearness  of  the  fruit.  Then  a  gay  party  of 
voluble  Americans  drifted  by,  criticising  the  man 
agement  freely  for  the  reservation  —  "  Why,  even 
at  the  Church  of  the  Advent  in  New  York  the  seats 
are  only  held  for  pew-owners  until  after  the  second 
lesson ! "  protested  a  shrill  girlish  treble.  Her  es 
cort's  reply  was  inaudible.  The  two  friends,  who 
were  amusing  themselves  with  the  trivial  little  inci 
dent,  smiled  at  each  other  comprehendingly.  The 
older  man  might  have  been  an  American  from  any 
where.  He  was  a  good  looking  affair  of  fifty  or 
more,  who  knew  how  to  get  what  he  wanted  al 
most  anywhere,  without  making  any  fuss  about  it. 
He  was  a  cosmopolitan,  who  did  not  forget  how  to 
speak  pure  English  on  his  return  to  his  native  land 
after  either  a  short  or  long  sojourn  abroad,  and 
who  remembered  American  modes  and  manners 
without  professed  astonishment.  Although  per 
fectly  at  home  in  France,  where  he  had  family  con 
nections  as  well  as  business  interests,  he  never  in 
terlarded  his  mother  tongue  with  Gallic  interjec 
tions  or  idiomatic  lapses  so  affected  by  younger 
diplomats  of  less  serious  experience  than  his  own. 


A  VACANT  TABLE  5 

Some  of  his  friends  considered  his  extreme  sim 
plicity  rather  over-done,  but  he  had  remained  un- 
corruptedly  himself,  in  face  of  all  temptations,  pre 
ferring  to  remain  an  American  gentleman  to  a 
polished  imitation  of  a  foreign  importation.  To 
the  gentle  hint  of  his  waiter  now,  "  If  M'sieur  has 
quite  altogether  finished — "  He  quietly  took  up 
the  card,  and  glancing  over  it,  ordered  a  sweet  and 
some  fruit.  The  crestfallen  servant  moved  away. 
He  had  hoped  to  get  rid  of  them  and  earn  a  second 
or  even  a  third  fee.  This  eating  by  petite  vitesse 
was  most  undesirable  1  And  men  alone,  with  no 
women  to  create  the  situation!  It  was  too  bad! 
And  in  his  turn  he  murmured  "  Bete ! "  as  he  filled 
the  order  he  had  provoked  by  his  haste. 

The  younger  man  of  the  two  was  keenly  of  the 
American  type,  but  with  so  much  will  in  his  face 
that  it  stood  him  in  stead  of  all  other  distinction 
at  a  first  glance.  He  was  watching  with  intent 
eyes  the  manipulation  of  a  couple  of  his  country 
men  bent  also  upon  the  empty  table  by  the  window. 
At  the  waiter's  repeated  remonstrance  one  of  them 
had  put  a  gold  piece  in  the  open  hand.  But  even 
the  American  argument  had  failed.  The  man 
passed  on,  gold  in  hand,  as  if  an  open  bribery  to 
some  more  greedy  gargon  to  hurry  his  clientele. 

"  Getting  interested  ?  "  asked  the  older  man  who 
had  intentionally  delayed  their  finish. 

"  Yes,  rather.     Let  us  see  it  out,"  said  the  other. 


6  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

"  For  whom  do  you  suppose  it  is  being  saved  ? 
Want  to  wager  on  it  ?  " 

"  Some  nameless  crowned  head  possibly, —  just 
a  farce  of  advertisement  perhaps  —  calling  atten 
tion  to  the  crowd  — " 

"  Some  American  on  his  bridal  tour  more  likely, 
who  has  no  idea  what  it  is  going  to  cost  him !  " 

"  Whoever  it  is,  is  going  to  be  made  conspicuous 
enough  when  he  does  come,  if  that  is  his  object!  " 

"  I  like  to  see  an  object  attained,  even  if  it  is 
only  a  fool  object." 

"  Yes,  you  do,"  assented  the  older  man  thought 
fully.  "  You  are  a  real  Payne,  Raleigh.  Your 
ambition  includes  every  minor  goal  in  its  path. 
Some  men  see  only  the  stakes,  but  you  keep  your 
eyes  fixed  on  the  winning  point  without  losing  an 
advantage  or  missing  a  trick  in  between." 

"  I  usually  know  pretty  definitely  what  I  want," 
the  younger  man  admitted  modestly,  without  boast 
ing,  but  as  if  honesty  compelled  admission  of  the 
fact. 

"  You  never  forget  it,  either.  That  is  the  won 
derful  part  of  it  in  a  man  barely  twenty-five." 

"  I  let  the  other  fellows  do  the  forgetting,  Uncle 
Steven." 

Steven  Randall  let  his  gaze  stray  out  to  the  flow 
ers  gleaming  brilliant  in  the  unshaded  sunlight  of 
the  terraces  beyond.  The  fountains  were  leaping 
like  a  sob  of  Nature. 


A  VACANT  TABLE  7 

"If  you  never  live  to  regret  that  you  have  lost 
the  power  of  forgetting — "  he  began,  more  as  if 
thinking  aloud  than  speaking  to  his  nephew  Raleigh 
Payne. 

The  boy  seemed  hard  to  him  sometimes ;  repelled 
him  by  this  very  lack  of  power  to  lose  himself  in 
any  exquisite  moment  or  emotion.  It  was  a  qual 
ity  unassociated  with  youth,  and  one  that  might 
mean  atrophy  of  emotion  in  time,  or  some  big 
achievement  by  virtue  of  concentration  in  one  su 
preme  channel. 

He  felt  instinctively  that  channel  would  in  his 
nephew  be  Self.  Raleigh  had  a  tenacity,  even  in 
detail  of  minor  value,  that  seemed  likely  to  fore 
tell  his  career.  Here,  for  example,  they  had  been 
storm-stayed,  but  there  had  been  no  thought  on 
Raleigh's  part  of  leaving,  until  the  sun  shone  and 
yielded  up  all  the  charm  of  sky  and  forest  peak  he 
had  expected  and  demanded.  It  had  rained  half 
heartedly,  made  a  feint  of  clearing,  and  then  poured 
from  leaden  skies.  The  tapering  pines  had  been 
swept  by  gust  after  gust.  The  thunder  had  rolled 
through  the  mountains  encircling  the  town,  and 
shaken  the  glasses  on  hotel  tables,  but  no  clear-up 
had  followed  its  sullen  withdrawal.  Everyone  had 
been  depressed.  Many  disgruntled  tourists  had 
taken  a  disappointed  departure.  The  water  stood 
in  the  streets  and  the  hackney  cabs  were  so  wet 
they  gave  out  strange  odours  of  mingled  upholstery 


8  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

and  stable.  When  the  sun  did  wink  at  the  golden 
crown  on  the  pavilion  of  the  Royal  Hotel,  it  made 
the  contrast  garish.  No  one  wanted  to  stop  in 
doors,  yet  outside  it  was  too  wet  to  permit  of  the 
usual  forms  of  distraction.  Hence  the  world  was 
at  Piippe's  and  lingering  there  because  it  did  not 
know  what  to  do  with  itself  next. 

"  I  hate  an  afternoon  clear-up,"  said  Steven  Ran 
dall,  cutting  his  pear  as  if  to  make  the  occupation 
last  as  long  as  possible.  "  I  always  want  to  go  to 
bed  and  begin  the  day  all  over  again  with  a  bath 
and  coffee.  One's  clothes  are  wrong  and  one's 
point  of  view  is  off  colour.  It  is  as  if  the  lime 
light  was  thrown  on  the  stage  carpenters  instead  of 
the  lovers  on  the  balcony.  Even  my  thoughts  that 
did  very  well  for  a  rainy  day,  seem  prosaic  in  this 
dazzle,  and  my  spirits  need  varnishing  too.  The 
great  joyous  thing  I  was  vaguely  waiting  to  do 
when  it  stopped  raining  suddenly  eludes  me."  He 
let  himself  go  a  trifle  in  time  to  the  music,  that  was 
.setting  fire  to  many  sluggish  hearts  and  torpid 
livers  with  its  Hungarian  rapture. 

"  I  intended  to  take  the  two  best  climbs  before  1 
left, —  whenever  that  might  be;  and  one  this  after 
noon,  no  matter  what  the  weather  was,"  said 
Raleigh. 

"  And  I  had  intended  to  play  a  little  bridge,  al 
ways  smoking,  and  now  I  shall  have  to  get  into 
walking  togs  and  climb  a  peak  with  you,  I  suppose, 


A  VACANT  TABLE  9 

while  the  pines  trickle  raindrops  down  my  neck." 
He  ate  his  pear  even  more  slowly,  still  waving  one 
hand  a  trifle,  in  time  with  the  music. 

The  great  skeleton  of  a  clock  over  the  main  en 
trance  was  already  past  the  hour  of  setting  out,  if 
they  were  really  intending  to  go,  but  neither  made 
the  move.  Curiosity  had  intervened.  And  even  so 
slight  a  check  to  his  will,  once  recognised,  became 
to  Raleigh  Payne  worth  surmounting;  had  its  rela 
tion  to  some  remote  connection  with  the  indom- 
itableness  of  his  inner  spirit.  So  they  sat  on,  lis 
tening  to  the  music.  It  was  Indicative  of  the  older 
man  in  many  ways,  that  he  had  passed  the  stage 
when  he  felt  it  part  of  being  a  cosmopolitan  to 
pay  the  musicians  to  repeat  his  favourite  tunes 
wafted  over  from  Paris.  He  had  arrived  at  that 
point  where  he  let  other  men,  newer  to  their  Eu 
rope,  pay  for  the  music,  which  he  simply  enjoyed, 
smoking  quietly,  keeping  time  unnoticeably, —  re 
membering,  perhaps. 

"  Rather  an  expensive  joke,"  commented  the 
younger  man,  looking  over  the  bill  again  offered  by 
the  discouraged  waiter.  Steven  Randall  turned  a 
serious  face  upon  him. 

"  My  boy,"  he  said,  "  it  comes  high  to  have  your 
own  way  in  anything.  Whether  you  win  your 
spurs  in  a  sudden  spurt  or  under  slow  fire,  or  in 
the  long  pull  of  lonely  self-surrender.  Every 
thing  costs!  You  can't  move  unless  you  go  and 


io  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

keep  going.  Every  picture  ever  painted  cost  more 
bitter  self-denial  than  religion  ever  dared  ask  of 
a  man.  It  means  hunger,  thirst,  days  down  the 
river,  nights  under  the  stars.  Never  mind  what 
river, —  death  perhaps, —  or  what  stars, —  those  over 
Eden  or  any  other  especial  garden,  from  which  one 
is  shut  out.  It  costs  all  the  joy  of  young  philan 
dering  put  by, —  the  longing  for  companionship 
and  gaiety  and  motion  denied,  to  sit  with  one's 
back  to  the  joy  of  the  world  outside  the  window, 
and  slowly,  line  by  line,  finger  by  finger,  master  the 
results,  the  relentless  technique  of  one's  art  and 
justify  its  dominion  over  one.  It  means  to  curse 
the  music  of  voices  that  rise  up  from  the  street  in 
springtime,  to  put  from  one  the  visions  of  warm 
fields,  as  one  would  shun  the  Evil  one  himself. 
Ah,  Lad,  Lad !  Any  success  costs  bitter  hours !  " 

Raleigh  flushed.  "I  will  have  it  though!"  he 
cried.  "  You  have  left  out  the  reverse  of  the 
medal.  There  is  the  sheer  joy  of  being  possessed 
by  one's  idea.  There  is  the  oblivion  that  stamps 
out  the  rest  of  the  world  and  all  its  ways  —  the 
reaction  after  a  long  strain,  when  one  goes  out  and 
wrings  one's  hands  and  whispers  half  sensible  grat 
itude  to  God  Almighty  that  it  is  coming!  Com 
ing,  somewhere  near  one's  determination!  Let  it 
cost  what  it  may  1  At  any  cost  I  will  have  it ! " 
he  repeated  — "  I  will !  " 

"  Yours  is  the  sin  by  which  the  angels  fell,"  said 


A  VACANT  TABLE  n 

Steven  Randall,  but  he  stopped  there  —  his  atten 
tion  caught  back  to  their  actual  surroundings  by  a 
sudden  swaying  of  servile  backs  occasioned  by  the 
entrance  of  a  party  of  three,  who  in  turn  ap 
proached  the  forbidden  table. 

Instantly  the  two  chairs  were  drawn  back,  but 
the  waiting  gargon  was  not  permitted  more,  for 
the  maitre  d'hotel  himself  stood  ready  to  place  one, 
and  a  grey-haired  servant  stood  already  behind  that 
of  his  mistress,  with  whom  he  had  entered.  She 
was  a  tiny,  weazened  aristocrat,  aged  and  bent 
over  her  ebony  stick  like  some  fairy  godmother, 
dressed  too  young  for  her  years  and  with  eyes  still 
brilliant  from  compliments  long  lavished  upon  them 
by  voices  long  dead  perhaps.  With  her  was  only 
a  little  girl. 

And  somehow  both  men  felt  the  child  was  an 
instance  of  the  special,  the  unique  and  distinctive 
and  that  the  instant  was  characteristic,  not  uni 
versal.  Her  face  was  pointed,  the  eyebrows  deli 
cate  but  emphatic.  Undier  dark  lashes  her  eyes 
were  already  half  closed  by  some  innate  instinct 
of  coquetry ;  probably  inherited  from  some  woman 
adored  and  perhaps  adoring,  more  probably  faith 
less.  Her  colour  was  that  of  the  wild  rose.  She 
was  slight  and  tall,  of  a  daintiness  unspeakable. 
A  witchery  of  childhood  was  hers,  coupled  with  a 
sophistication  of  birth.  Her  manner  of  accepting 
the  situation  of  the  table,  the  attendance  and  serv- 


12  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

ice  of  hors  d'oeuvre  was  gracious.  A  woman  of  the 
Court  might  have  studied  its  condescension.  It 
implied  her  aware  of  the  honour  of  serving  her, 
yet  was  charming  in  its  sweet  unconsciousness. 
She  chatted  with  her  aged  companion  as  any 
woman  of  the  great  world.  She  commended  each 
"  plat "  in  turn  and  found  fault  with  nothing,  but 
frowned  furiously  when  a  fork  slipped  clattering 
to  the  marble  floor  drawing  all  eyes  for  an  instant 
in  her  direction.  She  prattled  continuously  of  the 
sunshine,  her  play,  and  the  music  brought  an  in 
tense  expression  to  her  face  very  unusual  in  a  child 
so  young.  Nothing  she  said  seemed  an  affectation. 
She  was  evidently  making  her  little  effort  to  amuse 
her  vis  a  vis  as  if  the  role  of  hostess  devolved  upon 
her.  The  taciturn  old  grandam  opposite  thought 
in  directly  opposite  proportion  to  her  speech. 
Those  brilliant  old  eyes  lost  nothing  of  the  impres 
sion  created  by  the  child.  "  A  convent  was  cer 
tainly  the  place  for  her,  and  at  once, —  at  once  — " 
was  the  decision  arrived  at  behind  that  cold  and 
deeply  powdered  exterior.  Yet  in  her  own  mind 
the  Countess  de  Lamoureux  doubted  not  that  the 
nuns  would  have  a  few  extra  beads  to  tell  after 
listening  to  the  bebe's  chatter!  A  sardonic  smile 
played  across  her  intelligence,  as  she  recalled  sev 
eral  recent  instances  of  scandalously  diverting  rep 
etitions,  given  by  those  innocent  lips.  Incon 
ceivably  the  knowledge  of  the  grown  up  world 


A  VACANT  TABLE  13 

seemed  always  to  have  been  hers,  from  her  cradle. 
"  She  was  a  born  coquette.  It  had  been  to  laugh, 
to  see  her  playing  '  mariage  '  with  the  little  Span 
ish  Duke  last  evening  in  the  Salon ;  exulting  at  his 
discomfiture  as  she  paired  her  cards  until  he  was 
left  weeping,  with  the  solitary  card  of  unrequited 
love  in  his  chubby  fist !  Truly  there  was  something 
of  the  legend  of  mad  Rudolph  and  his  Marie  in  her 
love  for  conquest,  and  passionate  indifference  to 
convention,  even  already."  So  she  sat  eating  her 
pate  with  only  a  monosyllable  now  and  then  for  the 
little  girl ;  going  forward  and  backward  in  her  own 
mind,  and  the  two  men  at  the  table  next  sat  on, 
liqueur  following  liqueur.  The  strangers  made  a 
brief  luncheon.  When  it  was  over  the  little  girl 
summoned  the  maitre  d'hotel. 

"  All  has  been  very  well,"  she  said  serenely,  and 
nodded  to  the  white-haired  family  servant  to  at 
tend  to  the  bill.  "  You  may  conduct  me  to  the  gar 
den  now."  The  maitre  d'hotel  bowed  obsequiously 
as  she  slid  off  her  chair  like  any  child.  A  lady 
beckoned  to  her.  An  officer  blew  her  a  kiss 
through  his  cigarette  smoke.  Others  signalled  her, 
but  she  came  straight  toward  Raleigh  Payne  and 
stood  looking  up  at  him  through  her  dark  lashes. 

"  Why  did  you  not  wish  me  to  come  and  speak 
with  you,  M'sieur  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  ?  "  he  stammered,  disconcerted. 

"  Is  it  that  I  do  not  please  you  ?  " 


14  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

"  But  I  did  not  have  the  honour  to  know  your 
little  Highness !  "  he  explained. 

"  I  came  because  of  that, —  that  you  did  not  in 
vite  me.  I  detest  the  stranger  men  who  are  so 
'  bete '  as  to  beckon  me  in  public  places,"  she  said, 
flushing  indignantly. 

A  German  woman,  evidently  her  governess, 
came  hastily  toward  them, — 

"  Madame  the  Countess  desires  that  you  will  not 
converse  with  the  unknown  gentleman,"  she  said, 
glancing  toward  the  grandam  for  confirmation  of 
her  orders. 

"  Mon  Dieu !  But  he  desires  to  talk  with  me ! 
And  I  also  desire  —  so  — "  she  shrugged  her  shoul 
ders  and  made  a  baby  grimace  to  express  the  sit 
uation.  "  How  the  old  are  difficult !  Triste !  "  she 
cried,  turning  back  to  Raleigh  Payne.  "  Come," 
she  begged,  offering  him  her  hand.  "  Come  out 
in  the  garden  with  us  and  I  will  let  you  hold  Frou 
Frou.  She  is  sure  to  be  well  to-day  for  she  was 
so  suffering  yesterday  we  believed  she  must  die. 
She  had  eaten  a  lizard  probably.  Such  cold  things 
are  bad  for  one.  I  am  never  permitted  to  eat  iced 
food." 

The  governess  looked  the  picture  of  distress, 
blushing  a  tight,  leathern  blush  more  unbecoming 
every  instant. 

"  Come,"  repeated  the  child.  "  Come  and  play 
with  me.  I  find  you  are  adorable." 


A  VACANT  TABLE  15 

"  Oh,   Mademoiselle !  "  gasped  the  governess. 

"  Well,  what  have  I  done  ?  "  she  asked,  turning 
still  to  Raleigh. 

"  Nothing,  Petite.  Only  we  say  charming  or 
nice,  to  strangers.  Adorable  is  a  grown-up  word," 
he  assured  her. 

"  Then  when  I  am  grown  up,  I  will  tell  you,  you 
are  adorable !  "  she  laughed  mischievously. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  bowing  very  low.  He 
was  not  an  ungraceful  man.  "  And  will  you  marry 
me  when  you  are  grown  up  ?  " 

"  Frankly  no,"  she  replied  without  hesitation. 
"  You  would  never  be  a  suitable  parti  for  me, 
M'sieur.  I  am  the  Countess  Stephanie  Marie 
Louise  Graubach  von  Lichtenberg.  It  is  true,  I 
might  be  able  to  love  you, —  but  alas!  you  will  be 
long  dead  when  I  am  grown  up,  a  juene  fille  of 
marriageable  age." 

Her  mockery  pricked  him. 

"  I  may  not.  It  will  not  be  so  many  years,"  he 
warned  her. 

"  But  I  shall  marry  diplomatically,"  said  the 
bebe  Stephanie.  "  My  grandmother  will  arrange 
it,  as  my  father  is  dead  and  I  have  no  mother. 
But  if  my  '  Mari '  is  old  and  ugly,  certainly  I  can 
love  you,  the  same  as  now.  All  the  Court  ladies 
in  Vienna  love  someone,  you  know.  The  bon  Dieu 
says  it  is  their  duty  to  love,  and  so  —  oh,  they  tell 
me  all  their  legends!  The  beautiful  wife  of  the 


16  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

greatest  general  in  Austria  said,  when  I  was  play 
ing  near,  very  quietly  and  unobserved,  '  To  love, 
—  to  deceive, —  what  choice  have  we  ?  We  must 
be  quick  to  deceive  as  we  are  deceived.  We  women 
must  of  a  necessity  be  sage ! ' '  She  flashed  him  a 
smile  of  innocent  youth  and  amorous  conceit,  as 
the  governess  now  drew  her  forcibly  away,  in  re 
sponse  to  an  authoritative  motion  of  the  old  count 
ess'  stick. 

Both  men  rose  Instinctively  and  stood  as  the  for 
mal  exit  was  in  process.  Then  Raleigh  Payne  said 
quietly : 

"  I  shall  marry  that  child." 

"  How  about  your  engagement  to  Christine  ?  " 

"  I  admit  I  am  not  free  at  the  moment." 

"  And  as  to  the  necessary  fortune  for  such  an 
undertaking  ?  " 

"  I  can  make  it." 

"  Of  course  you  are  talking  beyond  your  book," 
said  Steven  Randall  lightly.  "  You  frightened  me 
for  the  moment." 

"  I  am  not  talking  beyond  my  intention,"  Raleigh 
replied.  "  I  have  done  whatever  I  set  out  to  so 
far  in  life.  And  I  repeat  that  I  shall  marry  the 
bebe  Countess  Stephanie  Marie  Louise  Graubach 
von  Lichtenberg." 

"If  you  do  you  will  regret  it,"  said  Randall  with 
equal  gravity. 

"Why?" 


A  VACANT  TABLE  17 

"  Because  she  is  a  subject  for  the  '  grande  pas 
sion,'  as  they  understand  it  over  here." 

"  You  think  an  American  is  incapable  of  that, 
given  the  feminine  incentive?" 

"  The  only  passion  an  American  understands  is 
Ambition.  You  will  prove  it." 


CHAPTER  II 

RALEIGH    PAYNE 

RALEIGH  PAYNE  in  knickerbockers  had 
discovered  for  himself  that  the  battle  was 
to  the  strong  and  the  race  to  the  swift, 
the  assertions  of  the  wise  notwithstanding.  Hav 
ing  made  this  discovery  he  acted  up  to  it.  He  was 
a  masterful  boy  with  a  genius  for  creating  the  im 
pression  he  desired,  to  gain  his  private  ends.  For 
example,  as  a  mere  lad  being  punished  by  an  early 
and  supperless  bed  hour,  he  had  inspired  his 
younger  brother  with  such  envy,  by  his  descrip 
tion  of  the  fun  he  was  having,  that  the  little  fellow 
cried  bitterly  to  be  included  in  the  game.  In  the' 
preparatory  school  to  which  he  was  sent,  pride 
kept  him  up  to  a  high  mark,  and  whatever  befell 
him,  he  made  a  brave  showing;  turning  the  silver 
linings  of  his  clouds  to  the  school  world  with  amaz 
ing  persistence  for  a  boy.  In  college,  though  not 
of  sufficient  brain  to  take  honours  easily,  he  had 
kept  himself  conspicuous  by  one  means  after  an 
other.  What  he  lacked  in  mental  calibre,  he  made 
up  in  assurance,  until  it  persuaded  his  world  and 
himself  that  it  was  the  same  thing.  An  appear 
ance  of  success  was  necessary  to  his  very  existence. 

18 


RALEIGH  PAYNE  19 

Popularity  gave  him  the  management  of  athletic 
interests  he  had  not  the  brawn  to  distinguish  him 
self  by  serving  on  the  field,  and  hard  study  while 
other  men  slept  kept  him  ahead  of  men  of  greater 
intellectual  power  but  less  force  of  will.  It  is 
doubtful  if  he  studied  for  love  of  the  classics  he 
read,  or  the  speculative  courses  through  which  he 
cut  a  shining  way.  But  it  is  certain  that  in  any 
contest  with  his  fellows  he  was  acutely  conscious 
of  the  sting  of  rivalry,  and  dogged  to  his  appointed 
end.  He  seemed  to  do  little  for  the  intrinsic  love 
of  it,  but  rather  to  take  life  as  an  extensive  gym 
nasium,  in  which  he  was  perpetually  straining  his 
muscles  to  tenser  endurance,  and  expanding  his 
chest  measure  to  deeper  inhalation  and  wider  meas 
urement.  For  so  young  a  man  he  was  considered 
singularly  aware  of  opportunity  in  any  guise.  The 
envious  said  that  he  adored  success  at  any  cost. 
He  knew  the  right  people,  wasted  no  time  on  any 
others,  made  no  impulsive  mistakes  in  his  friend 
ships,  yet  escaped  being  branded  as  a  snob,  by  a 
well  bred  instinct  that  made  him  shrink  from  a 
policy  that  involved  truckling  to  fate  or  society. 
He  felt  superior  to  that.  He  was  too  sure  of  him 
self  to  admit  other  dependence.  In  his  pleasures 
he  never  quite  lost  his  sober  balance  through  the 
excitement  of  any  rosy  moment.  Joy  could  not 
tip  the  scale  of  judgment.  He  danced  well  and 
wisely  with  the  most  attractive  girls.  He  was  far 


20  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

from  being  a  zealous  missionary  to  the  overlooked, 
nor  did  the  cotillion  find  him  favouring  the  plain. 
So  exclusive  were  his  attentions  that  they  came 
to  be  held  as  a  distinction, —  a  sort  of  college  deco 
ration,  so  sparingly  bestowed  as  to  be  valuable. 
He  held  that  society  was  but  another  arena  for  a 
man's  personal  development.  In  it  his  success 
must  be  only  measured  by  his  ambition,  as  in  the 
jostling  issues  of  life  beyond  the  college  walls. 
His  class  day  oration  was  a  stirring  appeal  for  in 
dividualism,  which  was  only  saved  from  sounding 
like  a  call  to  higher  selfishness  by  the  earnest  con 
viction  of  the  young  orator,  of  clear  cut  features 
and  prophetic  eyes,  whose  voice  magnetised  while 
he  spoke,  whatever  cooler  thought  may  have  found 
to  condemn  in  his  propaganda. 

His  engagement  to  Christine  Brand,  two  years 
later,  had  been  at  the  time  considered  a  vindication 
of  his  principles  and  a  rather  brilliant  thing  for 
him.  Christine  was  not  without  a  distinct  ambi 
tion  of  her  own,  to  which  Raleigh  appealed,  as  he 
was  well  aware.  Her  father's  political  affiliations 
were  flatteringly  possible  as  assets  for  his  own 
Career,  if  he  chose  to  avail  himself  of  them  to  the 
exclusion  of  his  literary  plans.  His  love-making 
was,  it  is  true,  something  of  an  after-thought,  but 
his  handsome  person  and  the  universal  admiration 
accorded  him  by  his  inner  circle  probably  assured 
the  girl  of  her  good  fortune,  and  filled  the  vacancy 


RALEIGH  PAYNE  21 

of  heart  she  might  have  realised,  had  Raleigh  been 
a  less  striking  figure.  In  her  father's  Washington 
mansion  as  well  as  on  the  family  estate  up  country, 
Raleigh  at  once  established  a  recognition  of  his 
importance.  Christine's  father  treated  him  as 
a  man  whose  advice  could  at  least  be  asked  and 
conceded  a  hearing.  His  address  commended 
him  to  the  politicians  and  men  of  large  affairs 
with  whom  the  two  homes  were  constantly  throng 
ing. 

"  How  does  that  strike  you,  Raleigh  ?  "  was  often 
on  the  older  man's  lips.  Or,  "  where's  the  flaw 
there,  Raleigh?  Your  eyes  are  younger  than  mine 
and  ought  to  be  keener ! " 

It  was  a  flattery  immensely  stimulating,  and  true 
to  his  ideals,  the  younger  man  made  the  most  of 
it,  studying  men  and  affairs,  reading  with  a  new 
and  critical  interest  that  made  history  but  revived 
politics,  and  politics  but  living  history. 

It  was  not  long  before,  yielding  to  the  excitement 
of  these  influences,  he  saw  the  political  vista  open 
ing  before  him  and  left  his  muse  to  follow.  The 
pen  might  well  be  mightier  than  the  sword,  but 
the  tongue  could  out-wit  both.  Literature  ceased 
to  be  his  medium  the  moment  he  saw  a  swifter, 
more  brilliant  path. 

It  was  his  first  parting  with  his  headstrong, 
boyish  ideal  for  himself.  He  was  too  much  ab 
sorbed  by  the  dazzling  chance  for  a  political  career 


22  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

to  estimate  the  loss  to  his  intrinsic  standards  with 
any  justice.  His  uncle,  Steven  Randall,  had  tried 
to  hold  him  back.  A  seasoned  diplomat  himself, 
too  well  versed  in  political  manipulation  not  to  be 
disillusioned,  he  felt  his  nephew's  desertion  of  so 
high  and  reverenced  a  calling,  with  a  degree  of 
regret  that  was  almost  bitterness.  He  had  lived 
for  diplomacy,  and  knew  its  intricate  charm  too 
well  to  gainsay  the  boy's  increasing  infatuation. 
It  broke  his  own  dreams  rudely,  however;  dreams 
in  which  Raleigh  and  Christine  were  placed  at  Sky 
High  during  the  long  summers  he  loved  to  spend 
in  his  country  home  up  in  the  New  Hampshire 
hills ;  dreams  in  which  they  were  to  perpetuate  the 
family  line,  and  bequeath  an  honoured  name  to 
letters.  At  the  end  of  a  year  of  this  indefinite 
preparation  for  public  life,  Steven  Randall  had  in 
vited  him  to  travel  for  a  year,  preliminary  to  a 
definite  diplomatic  appointment.  To  Raleigh's 
great  satisfaction,  Christine  had  seen  at  a  glance 
that  two  men,  one  of  whom  was  quite  at  home  in 
most  of  the  inaccessible  corners  of  Europe,  could 
see  the  world  to  better  advantage  than  a  young  hus 
band  and  wife  on  their  own  initiative,  and  pre 
sumably  oblivious  to  any  horizon  beyond  each 
other's  eyes.  He  had  no  trouble  in  drawing  a 
telling  contrast  between  the  relative  value  to  his 
career,  of  a  honeymoon  laid  in  some  Italian  coast 
village,  with  letters  of  introduction  for  Berlin  and 


RALEIGH  PAYNE  23 

Vienna  unopened,  unpresented,  or  perhaps  met  with 
impersonal  indifference  and  turned  over  to  inferiors, 
—  and  the  charming  ease  of  informal  presentations 
made  by  a  man  of  letters,  who  had  served  in  more 
than  one  intricate  international  arbitration.  He 
had  specialised  in  language  and  history  during  two 
years  of  graduate  work,  and  his  uncle's  offer  came 
as  the  crowning  reward  of  his  own  effort.  It  all 
depended  on  whether  Christine  was  going  to  insist 
on  their  marriage  and  hamper  his  movements. 
Happily  she  had  not.  She  had  been  reasonable, 
that  is  unselfish,  and  sent  him  off  in  perfect  har 
mony  with  himself  unmarred  by  one  expression  of 
reproach. 

For  which  he  had  characteristically  rewarded  her 
by  wondering  if  it  was  in  her  to  care  much  for 
any  man, —  aside  from  his  position  in  the  world  ? 
She  was  a  fit  mate  for  him,  he  decided,  for  of  course 
she  must  have  hated  to  put  off  the  wedding.  Yet 
she  had  understood  to  a  fraction,  the  importance 
of  it  all  to  him.  She  was  like  him  in  many  ways. 
He  was  content  with  her  for  awhile,  and  at  times 
proud  of  his  perspicacity  in  choosing  her.  After  a 
glimpse  of  several  governments,  including  a  court 
and  an  empire,  his  ideas  had  changed  and  enlarged 
astonishingly.  Personal  experience  with  embassies 
and  legations  taught  him  surprising  lessons.  In 
efficiency  stirred  his  blood  with  its  suggestion  of 
all  inefficiency  might  mean.  The  stupendous  work- 


24  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

ing  of  harmonious  precedent  set  him  reconstructing 
the  weak  places  in  his  own  government  with  a  sure 
touch.  The  little  girl  at  Carlsbad  had  opened  his 
eyes  to  a  possibility  in  women,  far  beyond  the  mere 
domestic  respectability  and  matter-of-course  com 
radeship  offered  him  by  a  girl  like  Christine.  How 
was  she  to  cope  with  a  civilisation  whose  baby-talk 
was  beyond  her  comprehension?  What  was  she 
worth  as  secondary  support  in  a  life  of  continental 
intrigue?  If  a  man  seriously  meant  diplomacy, 
should  not  his  wife  be  a  decoration  worn  on  his 
breast  rather  than  a  button  on  his  uniform  ?  French 
women,  Austrians,  Italians,  were  a  gauzy  cloud  of 
witnesses  for  his  new  obsession.  The  fine,  clear 
quality  he  had  admired  in  Christine  suddenly  seemed 
ineffective.  Her  directness  became  inartistic.  Her 
lack  of  finesse  recalled  the  jokes  he  had  heard  at 
the  expense  of  the  honest  unpolished  wives  of  the 
American  representatives  abroad.  He  remembered 
her  rigidly  correct  French,  which  was  at  best  but 
a  grammatical  translation  of  English  prose,  ren 
dered  word  for  word  without  idiomatic  bias.  He 
wondered  if,  after  all,  he  had  done  the  best  thing 
for  himself  in  such  an  engagement.  Many  of  the 
most  successful  diplomats  were  unmarried.  The 
wrong  woman  would  be  far  more  impeding  than 
none.  He  saw  that,  from  every  approach  to  the 
subject.  It  was  characteristic  of  him,  that  deciding 
there  was  a  better,  though  beyond  his  reach,  he 


RALEIGH  PAYNE  25 

unhesitatingly  discarded  his  best  without  regret  or 
scruple. 

True,  the  prestige  afforded  him  by  Christine's 
father  had  been  of  importance  to  him  in  the  intro 
ductory  passages  of  his  life.  But  was  a  man  to  stop 
there?  When  any  relation  ceased  to  have  the 
power  and  the  glory  was  it  not  already  over?  He 
had  but  employed  the  nearest  means  to  insure  his 
own  recognition.  This  was  now  to  a  certain  ex 
tent  secure.  Why  should  one  persist  in  using  a 
tool  no  longer  sharp  enough  to  carve  one's  name 
upon  the  hard  metal  of  the  world,  though  one's  own 
hand  had  blunted  the  instrument  in  its  first  awkward 
attempts  of  apprenticeship?  Raleigh  had  never 
taken  a  blow  without  gathering  fresh  resistance. 
He  had  never  failed  without  accepting  a  secret 
lesson  of  how  he  might  have  succeeded.  Was  it 
likely  he  would  spare  the  girl  to  whom  he  had 
pledged  his  word,  if  she  became  unequal  to  the 
stride  he  was  setting  himself?  His  nerve  and 
pride  alike  responded  to  the  challenge  of  the  little 
ten-year-old  Countess  Stephanie,  baby  though  she 
was.  The  distance  between  them  only  heightened 
her  charm  for  him.  He  was  under  the  first  glamour 
of  an  aristocracy  and  either  forgetful  or  ignorant 
that  class,  not  the  individual,  determines  the  goal 
of  the  European  of  rank,  and  that  foreordination 
is  more  easily  laughed  down  the  wind  than  caste. 
From  that  high  noon  at  Carlsbad,  through  eight 


26  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

years  of  persistent  success,  he  followed  his  little 
star  at  a  discreet  distance;  always  pushing  his 
diplomatic  connection,  always  increasing  his  modest 
fortune  by  clever  speculation.  He  knew  the  Con 
vent  of  the  Holy  Mother  where  she  was  ostensibly 
at  school,  but  really  out  of  her  grandmother's  way, 
and  he  ventured  to  send  her  bonbons  and  even  an 
occasional  gift.  With  his  offering  his  card  only 
was  enclosed.  Never  a  word  more  to  interrupt  the 
rule  of  the  Sisters,  or  blur  her  first  impression  of 
him.  This  continued  until  she  must  have  been 
eighteen,  when  his  gift  came  back  to  him,  briefly 
inscribed  by  the  postal  authorities  "  Not  Here." 
He  was  unable  to  be  in  France  for  a  year  after, 
or  he  would  have  gone  to  the  convent  for  news  of 
her.  It  was  not  until  a  second  year  had  passed, 
a  year  full  of  intricate  and  promoting  achievement, 
that  he  met  her  suddenly  face  to  face  at  a  ball  in 
Vienna,  wearing  a  jewelled  bracelet,  his  last  gift 
to  her.  Her  convent  days  were  over;  her  own 
struggle  with  the  world  well  begun. 

At  sight  of  her  his  romance  had  flared  into  full 
flower.  The  negotiations  undertaken  had  been 
prompt  and  daring.  They  were  in  the  nature  of 
a  coup  long  premeditated  on  his  part.  Who  was  he 
to  presume  for  the  hand  of  a  child  of  the  blood? 
This  was  the  attitude  he  expected.  And  he  was 
not  disappointed.  His  credentials,  duly  presented, 
were  indisputable.  His  fortune  sufficient  and  over- 


RALEIGH  PAYNE  27 

estimated  fortunately  by  those  nearest  to  him.  He 
had  some  little  literary  distinction  to  add  to  his 
credit, —  and  yet,  and  yet  —  he  perfectly  calculated 
the  weakness  of  his  strength  and  the  strength  of 
his  adversary's  weakness  in  the  struggle  before 
him.  His  interview,  for  he  had  but  one  with  the 
old  Countess  de  Lamoureux,  had  been  insulting  to 
his  spirit  and  wounding  to  his  pride,  but  he  had  not 
allowed  himself  to  be  jostled  in  his  pretension. 
In  the  end,  after  humiliating  him  by  Austrian  inso 
lence,  making  every  possible  demand  and  tolerating 
him  only  on  sufferance,  he  had  prevailed.  He  won 
out  by  a  fluke,  the  old  countess  having  easily  out- 
diplomatised  him,  but  the  wizened  old  beldam  let 
him  go  without  a  suspicion  of  her  real  reasons. 
And  so  he  won, —  the  means  were  all  the  same  to 
Raleigh  Payne.  It  was  by  virtue  of  a  blot  on  the 
lady's  scutcheon  that  he  got  her.  He  might,  or 
might  not  have  felt  he  had  done  well,  if  he  had 
heard  the  beldam  chuckle  through  her  random 
teeth  like  an  autumn  wind,  to  her  old  adviser,  the 
Master  of  the  Chancellerie,  in  defence  of  her  ir 
regular  action  and  consent.  "  No  dot  and  a  history ! 
Stephanie  may  well  take  her  millionaire  Pretender 
and  bless  all  her  Saints  for  the  chance  1  "  But  the 
very  uncertainty  of  Stephanie  herself,  that  had 
made  her  so  greatly  a  burden  to  her  grandmother, 
was  as  yet  hid  from  his  dazzled  eyes.  In  her  brief 
taste  of  the  world  men  had  been  quick  to  offer  her 


28  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

irregular  relations.  She  might  have  been  the 
dearest  friend  of  the  Emperor's  own  son.  Why 
she  had  not,  she  could  hardly  have  told  herself. 
Probably  from  a  whim  of  her  own,  that  she  would 
love  as  well  as  be  adored.  She  was  capable  of  a 
fault  where  she  loved.  The  old  countess  knew 
that  very  well,  but  love  would  be  her  price.  With 
out  passion  no  indiscretion  would  be  committed. 
There  had  been  one  man  she  might  have  followed, 
if  a  hint  from  her  grandmother  had  not  sup 
pressed  him.  A  man  of  redoubtable  fascination 
he  was,  though  a  sort  of  soldier  of  fortune,  em 
ployed  ostensibly  in  newspaper  work  to  cover  im 
perial  orders  most  imperatively  secret.  His  gov 
ernment  office  had  kindly  removed  him  to  a  remoter 
sphere  of  action,  taking  his  ill-starred  love  affair  in 
hand  just  in  time  to  save  an  esclandre  on  the  brink 
of  publicity.  He  was  wiped  out  in  a  night,  and  the 
girl  left  to  her  own  conjecture  as  to  the  reason 
of  their  ruptured  intimacy.  Whatever  the  countess 
suspected  no  one  ever  knew,  but  the  grand-daughter 
and  herself.  It  is  quite  possible  that  the  incident 
served  as  an  object  lesson  pressed  home.  Stephanie 
might  or  might  not  have  known  her  own  story,  but 
within  the  high  and  narrow  court  circle  it  marred 
her  future  beyond  repair.  Despite  the  protection 
afforded  by  her  grandmother's  second  marriage  with 
the  French  de  Lamoureux,  an  alliance  fit  for  beauty 
like  hers  was  not  for  her.  Not  simply  because  her 


RALEIGH  PAYNE  29 

mother  had  been  a  dancer,  or  because  her  father 
had  ruined  himself  for  her  and  disgraced  his  name, 
but  that  sunk  until  forced  to  accept  whatever  com 
promising  office  was  left  him,  he  had  been  caught 
and  branded  as  a  spy  in  the  service  of  his  govern 
ment,  which  exposed  him,  paid  him  and  disowned 
him  discovered.  Misfortune  and  dishonour  had 
stiffened  the  spine  of  the  old  countess,  his  mother, 
who  had  become  even  more  arrogantly  exclusive, 
more  outrageous  in  presumption  on  every  down 
ward  step  taken  by  her  only  son.  The  little  girl, 
always  an  ungrateful  care  to  her,  as  a  woman  be 
came  an  insupportable  embarrassment.  She  had 
been  brought  up  at  watering  places  where  she  saw 
and  heard  over-much,  and  in  Paris  where  her 
grandmother's  friends  were  too  careless  to  lower 
their  voices  of  scandal  before  the  presumable  in 
nocence  of  youth.  In  Vienna  she  had  been  handed 
over  to  servants  and  a  governess;  playing  in 
gardens  where  sculptured  nymphs  and  satyrs  rioted 
in  fountained  forms,  whose  waters  threw  a  rain 
bow  glamour  over  the  flowers;  and  in  long  mir- 
rored-chambers  that  taught  her  the  grace  of  her 
tall  little  body  and  the  joy  of  her  ravishing  feet 
in  their  absurdly  high  heels  and  monster  bows  or 
flashing  buckles.  Indeed  many  an  American  ma 
tron  surmised  less  of  human  psychology,  than  this 
pretty  bebe  had  overheard,  or  by  some  strange 
unyouthful  process  stored  away  by  intuition,  to 


30  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

make  good  the  lack  of  maternal  precept  in  her  days 
of  experience  yet  to  come.  The  convent  had 
softened  her  childish  boldness,  restraining  her  man 
ner  and  expression  only  to  drive  her  instinct  in 
on  itself.  She  had  learned  the  "  extase  "  of  re 
ligion  and  translated  it  into  terms  of  personal  pas 
sion.  She  had  learned  to  lower  her  eyes  with  virgin 
modesty,  but  her  heart  was  no  less  open  to  the  se 
ductions  of  her  imagination.  The  sacred  intimacy 
with  the  holy  Saints  of  both  sexes  insisted  on  by 
the  Sisters,  had  fired  her  with  a  confused  mingling 
of  pious  and  profane  intimations.  Every  priest 
was  an  Abelard,  though  none  offered  her  the  role 
of  Heloise.  Her  grandmother's  rein  had  been 
scarcely  less  rigid  as  she  grew  older,  and  between 
the  convent  restraint  and  the  etiquette  of  the  court 
imposed  upon  her  without  mercy,  she  fell  to  the 
foreign  woman's  only  freedom, —  marriage. 

Raleigh  flung  himself  at  his  conquest  of  her  as 
he  had  at  the  other  prizes  he  had  coveted.  He 
flattered  himself  that  a  millionaire  poet,  at  the  same 
time  a  rising  diplomat,  was  equal  to  tipping  the 
scale  of  a  Viennese  alliance.  Thfe  million  was 
scanty  and  the  poetry  not  of  the  finest,  still  to  an 
undowered  girl  the  fortune  was  not  so  bad,  and  he 
had  no  fear  that  Stephanie  would  see  that  his 
poetry  lacked  the  glow  of  old  beauty  or  starkly 
phrased  thought.  He  was  in  love  with  her,  wanted 
her,  meant  to  have  her.  He  also  meant  to  have 


RALEIGH  PAYNE  31 

not  only  her  grandmother's  consent  but  her  own. 
He  read  her  romanticism,  and  dared  an  excess  of 
it  he  would  have  feared  to  show  to  Christine.  He 
had  used  influence,  finessed,  assaulted,  and  at  last 
almost  carried  her  by  storm.  Is  it  God  or  Nature 
that  moves  a  girl  to  return  the  last  one  of  a  furious 
rain  of  kisses  poured  upon  her,  while  she  struggles 
in  a  lover's  arms?  However  much  she  may  have 
intended  to  resist,  the  curiosity  of  love,  the  desire 
for  freedom  were  mingled  in  her  acceptance  of 
him  with  something  not  unlike  fascination.  Ste 
phanie,  the  first  year  after  leaving  her  convent,  was 
a  strangely  bewildering  softened  variation  of  the 
vivid  little  girl  of  Raleigh's  Carlsbad  memories.  It 
was  due  perhaps  to  the  religious  life  about  her  dur 
ing  the  impressionable  years  of  girlhood.  The 
modulated  order  of  her  days,  the  continual  twi 
light  of  the  soul  in  which  she  revolved,  the  rev 
erent  tones  and  adoring  postures  of  the  nuns,  the 
lingering  echoes  of  mass  and  Ave  might  have  driven 
from  her  the  hard  and  sordid  world-voices  of  her 
childhood.  Or  it  might  have  been  only  a  more 
subtle  form  of  the  coquetry  that  had  been  her  birth 
right,  suppressed, —  but  nourished  by  long  fasting. 
Accustomed  as  he  was  to  American  women,  she 
bewildered  Raleigh  with  her  mystery  and  fragrance, 
her  exotic  perfection.  He  was  utterly  her  slave 
in  those  days  succeeding  their  marriage,  and  she 
tyrannised  over  him  with  a  power  descended  of 


32  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

despots.  Everything  about  her  he  adored  submis 
sively.  He  had  had  his  own  way,  and  was  sub 
servient  to  the  new  form  of  his  own  will  in  hers. 
He  was  hers,  but  she  was  his.  This,  he  never  for 
got.  If  he  had  seen  that  this  was  the  only  way  to 
win  her,  he  kept  his  knowledge  to  himself  and 
played  the  lover  as  astutely  as  he  had  played  the 
diplomat.  To  men  of  his  type  there  is  but  one  goal 
in  view  until  it  is  attained.  And  whether  Stephanie 
was  ultimately  swept  away  by  the  sleepless  sincerity 
of  his  suit,  or  if  she  recognised  her  own  critical 
position  too  well  to  risk  being  declassed  by  her 
peers,  and  resolved  to  retrieve  herself  by  a  solid 
if  loveless  marriage,  the  result  was  favourable  to 
the  American's  will.  After  all  why  does  any  woman 
marry  any  man?  Five  years  later  one  reason  is  as 
good  as  another! 

After  a  winter  in  Washington,  where  Stephanie 
had  been  the  success  of  the  season,  he  went  tri 
umphantly  on,  intoxicated  by  his  own  sagacity. 
His  next  diplomatic  appointment  had  been  dis 
tinctly  notable.  Even  the  fact  of  his  wife's  faith, 
at  first  a  source  of  some  misgiving  to  him,  had 
stood  him  in  unexpected  stead.  Her  close  relation 
to  a  member  of  the  Vatican  household  had  sensibly 
furthered  the  outcome  of  his  special  mission  to 
Rome ;  where  there  were  delicate  matters  of  infinite 
importance  to  both  countries,  and  even  to  united 
Christendom,  weighing  in  hidden  balances.  If  he 


RALEIGH  PAYNE  33 

had  used  his  Catholic  connection  to  his  own  ad 
vantage,  to  the  point  of  semi-betrayal,  his  own  gov 
ernment  approved  his  course.  And  if  he  had 
seemed  to  lend  himself  to  Stephanie's  desire, 
to  see  him  formally  within  the  Catholic  communion, 
only  so  long  as  it  opened  doors  otherwise  inacces 
sible,  modernism  and  the  twentieth  century  easily 
condoned  his  not  actually  "  going  over  "  in  the  end. 
He  had  asked  nothing  of  Stephanie  but  to  marry 
him  and  let  him  give  her  the  devotion  of  which  he 
was  capable.  And  she  had  married  him  not 
eagerly,  or  too  reluctantly  for  his  pride,  but  much 
as  any  girl  a  year  from  the  restraint  of  a  French 
convent  marries  the  man  her  guardians  designate. 
He  spoiled  her  in  every  way  he  could  devise.  He 
lavished  the  contents  of  Paris  shops  upon  her  and 
was  never  so  pleased  with  himself  as  when  sur 
prising  her  with  some  intimate  trifle  that  reiterated 
the  closeness  of  their  relation:  the  right  that  was 
his  in  the  bond  that  bound  them.  And  with  the 
instinct  of  her  mother,  perhaps,  hot  in  her  veins, 
she  sometimes  gave  herself  to  him  with  an  abandon 
he  had  never  dreamed  —  moments  of  exquisite  tor 
ment  to  him  in  her  reactions  of  coldness,  when 
she  tired  of  him,  or  her  love  of  his  vehement  ca 
resses  was  spent.  She  never  said  she  loved  him. 
He  never  could  make  her  say  it.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  her  force  of  passion  was  strangely  impersonal. 
He  could  not  deceive  himself  into  the  belief  that 


34  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

she  loved  him,  even  in  the  closest  embrace  upon 
her  heart.  Indeed  was  it  love,  as  he  had  always 
conceived  love,  that  he  felt  for  her?  Love  and 
Lust  are  twin  brothers  in  many  a  man's  heart. 
There  was  nothing  of  the  brave  sacrificial  spirit  of 
his  ideal,  in  these  first  onsets  of  passion. 
They  soon  passed  the  point  where  poignant 
pleasure  ceases,  and  becomes  inexorable  habit. 
But  she  was  his !  Her  beauty,  her  grace,  her  fire, — 
that  in  her  which  made  men  stare  after  her  as  she 
passed,  were  his.  His  right  to  her  was  supreme. 
And  even  in  Rome  she  gave  no  tongue  to  scandal, 
though  men  saw  her  to  desire  and  were  at  small 
pains  to  conceal  their  emotions.  Sometimes  he 
drew  off  and  wondered  over  her.  It  seemed  as  if 
some  secret  scorn  of  men  had  rooted  in  that  childish 
breast,  or  some  guarded  bitterness  kept  her  prisoned 
in  a  magic  circle  of  her  own  counsel.  She  never 
betrayed  herself.  He  could  not  imagine  that  the 
nuns  had  inserted  this  blend  of  purity  and  pas 
sion.  It  seduced  him  beyond  reason,  yet  dreading 
the  result  of  excess,  he  allowed  himself  no  relaxa 
tion  from  his  predetermined  programme.  He 
cherished  her  beauty,  preserved  her  from  illness  or 
fatigue,  kept  her  inviolate,  sacred  to  his  career. 

And  yet  he  never  won  her  confidence  and  never 
found  the  tranquil  satisfaction  of  certainty  as  to 
every  event  of  her  past,  which  he  would  naturally 
have  claimed  from  Christine ;  —  who  had  confessed 


RALEIGH  PAYNE  35 

all  her  previous  love  passages  to  him  the  day  after 
their  engagement.  It  had  bored  him  a  little  at  the 
time,  but  he  supposed  it  the  proper  thing.  It  was 
different  with  Stephanie,  who,  though  actually  his 
wife,  held  her  past  to  herself,  if  indeed  she  had  any, 
under  a  smiling  beauty  that  gave  the  lie  to  her 
ignorance.  Sometimes  she  would  chatter  gaily  of 
her  childhood  recollections  with  their  changing 
rainbow  impressions,  or  of  the  chastened  harmony 
of  the  convent.  But  of  what  she  had  felt  or  suf 
fered,  no  one  word  escaped  her.  Never  one  clue 
was  dropped  that  he  could  follow  to  her  inner  self 
without  a  rude  invasion  of  what  was  exclusively 
her  own.  He  thought  he  knew  every  phase  of  her 
girlhood,  from  a  distance,  and  was  sure  no  romance 
more  tangible  than  vague  dreaming  had  possessed 
her.  But  the  quality  in  her  that  escaped  him,  tan 
talised  and  taunted.  Could  he  be  sure  ?  His 
jealousy  turned  on  him  fiercely  in  those  moments 
of  ignorant  surmise.  He  remembered  at  those 
black  moments  the  very  inflection  of  her  voice, 
when  she  had  said  to  him  as  a  child  — "  But,  of 
course,  if  my  '  Mari '  is  old  and  ugly  I  can  love  you, 
M'sieur.  All  women  must  love — "  And  by 
chance!  he  was  himself  the  "  Mari,"  and  though  not 
old,  older  than  she  by  fifteen  years  of  his  best  youth. 
Once  she  had  inadvertently  alluded  to  a  summer  in 
Normandy.  It  was  the  summer  before  she  met 
him.  But  she  had  hurried  over  her  mention  of  it 


36  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

and  avoided  his  interest  in  the  exact  spot  and  date. 
When  he  had  proposed  returning  there  for  a  few 
weeks,  she  had  dismissed  it  without  petulance  but  in 
the  manner  of  one  who  found  him  stupid.  She  had 
not  confessed  even  to  her  Father  Confessor,  quite 
fully  perhaps,  the  madness  of  that  first  summer  holi 
day  passed  with  an  English  schoolmate,  whose  fam 
ily  had  taken  her  off  her  grandmother's  hands  for  a 
compensation.  Her  first  love  dream  had  been  a 
bitter  one  to  her,  and  to  the  poor  fellow  who  had 
lost  his  mind  over  her,  followed  her  to  Vienna,  and 
left  her  without  a  word.  He  was  unique,  though 
she  was  too  young  to  know  it,  and  the  poems  he 
had  wasted  upon  her  were  still  with  her  in  the  little 
black  dress  basket  that  always  stood  in  her  own 
room,  either  at  home  or  in  hotels.  Poems  dyed  in 
the  colours  of  the  orient,  steeped  in  the  hopeless 
shadow  of  the  Slav;  cries  that  cut  like  the  blue 
blade  of  a  sword  in  the  moonlight,  seeking  the 
heart, —  the  only  souvenir  of  her  brief  and  stolen 
girlhood. 


CHAPTER  III 

AT    SKY    HIGH 

THE  second  summer  after  their  marriage 
found  them  back  in  America ;  their  head 
quarters  with  Steven  Randall  at  Sky 
High,  where  Stephanie  remained,  while  Raleigh 
made  his  flying  trips  to  and  from  the  city,  and  the 
West,  and  countless  destinations,  by  motor  or 
sleeper,  by  day  and  by  night,  after  the  manner  of 
the  great  American  men.  At  first  Stephanie  had 
wanted  her  own  establishment,  but  a  short  experi 
ence  proved  the  wisdom  of  the  present  arrangement. 
"  When  I  talked  of  a  home  in  the  country,  I  see 
now  why  you  made  an  objection,"  she  said  to 
Raleigh,  on  one  of  his  brief  visits  between  given 
points. 

"  But  surely  your  European  men  are  not 
in  residence  too  long  at  a  time,"  he  reminded  her. 
"  The  loveliest  of  their  chateaux  in  France  are 
little  more  than  a  nursery,  and  often  their  apart 
ment  in  Paris  is  only  a  pied  a  terre." 

"  And  you,  Raleigh,  have  almost  as  much  neces 
sity  of  a  '  pied  a  terre '  as  a  humming  bird ! "  she 
cried.  "  Like  him,  you  too  fly  over,  but  never  re 
main." 

37 


38  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

"  But  he  always  knows  where  to  find  the  sweet 
est  flower — " 

"  The  flower  wishes  she  had  wings,"  remarked 
Stephanie  irrelevantly. 

"  A  man  does  what  he  must,"  Raleigh  said  so 
berly. 

"  Ah,  really  ?  Does  he  believe  it  ?  I  had  been 
told  a  woman  did  as  she  must  and  a  man  what  he 
would."  Raleigh  was  really  troubled  by  her  mood. 

"  Other  men's  interests  are  so  inextricably  in 
volved,  darling.  I  cannot  get  out  of  my  tread 
mill  honourably,  without  risking  their  results  as 
well  as  my  own." 

"  So  you  have  said  many  times,"  she  agreed. 
"  I  ought  to  know  that  lesson  perfectly." 

"  You  have  had  ever  so  many  disappointments," 
he  exclaimed,  recalling  all  sorts  of  engagements 
he  had  been  obliged  to  break  for  business  reasons. 

"  Oh,  it  is  of  no  importance.  It  is  only  the  first 
time  that  one  makes  a  scene.  And  after,  one  takes 
the  custom  of  the  country,  like  the  wine."  They 
both  remembered  the  first  time.  It  had  been  their 
first  real  misunderstanding  of  their  relation  to  each 
other,  and  Raleigh's  career.  It  had  begun  by  his 
sending  her  off  to  the  theatre  without  him  on  her 
own  birthday  celebration,  and  it  had  evolved  into 
this  summer  alone  at  Sky  High. 

The  place  lay  in  the  heart  of  New  England,  a 
long  mile  from  the  village  where  the  trains  only 


AT  SKY  HIGH  39 

stopped  on  signal  to  drop  the  occasional  wayfarer, 
who  was  usually  met  and  whirled  away  to  the 
sophisticated  hermits  of  the  wooded  hills,  beyond 
the  meadows  with  their  slow-flowing  river.  The 
house  itself  was  a  spacious,  decent  mansion,  too 
dignified  to  be  even  flauntingly  colonial  in  build. 
There  was  a  courtyard  enclosed  on  three  sides, 
that  gave  an  English  effect  as  one  approached, 
without  seeming  an  anachronism.  There  was  no 
imitation  Italian  garden,  no  fountain.  The  great 
terrace  in  front  gave  sharply  to  the  next  below, 
where  tall  foxglove  and  dawn  shades  of  phlox  held 
the  paths,  and  the  blue  of  the  bee-larkspur  blurred 
on  the  blue  of  heaven  like  a  little  sister,  and  the 
meek  Virgin  lillies  stood  in  rows  behind  the  pun 
gent  peonies  in  their  decorative  lines.  On  the  up 
per  terrace  the  first  jonquils  and  hyacinths  gave 
way  later  to  the  roses  and  heliotrope,  and  a  small 
lake  of  mignonette  over  which  the  bees  like 
drunken  mariners  continually  lost  their  bearings  to 
drown  in  sweetness. 

The  tall  cedars  at  the  northwestern  end  of  the 
terrace,  almost  as  mysterious  as  cypress  trees,  were 
a  solemn  sun  dial,  for  when  the  sun  was  drawn 
further  and  further  toward  them  as  summer  deep 
ened,  their  warning  shapes  lengthened  over  the 
grass  of  an  afternoon,  as  if  to  remind  one  that  the 
most  exquisite  moment  might  not  last. 

There  was  no  pergola,  nothing  foreign  or  out 


40  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

of  keeping  with  simple  native  beauty  and  love  of 
nature  on  her  own  terms.  From  the  low  balus 
trade  one  looked  down  over  these  tiers  of  bloom, 
suggestive  of  the  riviera  gardens  to  Stephanie,  and 
away  over  the  valley,  across  the  ribbon  of  river 
to  the  hills  and  even  mountains  beyond,  rising 
sharply, —  a  playground  for  shadows,  trooping  all 
day  in  fantastic  procession  beneath  the  light  clouds 
or  portentous  thunder  heads,  and  over  whose  rug 
ged  shoulder  the  sun  smiled  back  a  last  good-night, 
like  a  child  regretful  to  be  gone. 

From  her  first  introduction  Stephanie  had 
bowed  to  the  charm  of  Steven  Randall. 

"  I  shall  name  you  Grandee !  "  she  cried,  on  see 
ing  him  at  Sky  High  surrounded  by  his  charac 
teristic  setting. 

"I  protest!"  Steven  Randall  objected.  "I  am 
a  democrat  of  the  democrats !  " 

"  On  the  contrary !  "  she  cried,  throwing  up  her 
hands  with  a  pretty  derision, — "  I  find  you  per 
fectly  an  aristocracy  person !  "  The  language,  still 
so  formidable  to  her,  unable  to  hinder  her  thought 
of  him.  "  I  am  convinced  you  have  Austrian 
blood  in  your  so  patrician  veins !  One  sees  it  from 
the  way  your  servants  obey  at  a  glance.  It  is  mili 
tary  precision." 

She  felt  it  more  and  more,  as  she  saw  the  fear 
and  honour  shown  him  by  the  people  of  all  de 
grees  among  whom  he  lived.  His  keen  tongue 


AT  SKY  HIGH  41 

and  all-comprehending  heart  suggested  nobility,  as 
did  the  pomps  and  forms  of  daily  life  with  which 
he  surrounded  himself  even  in  his  seclusion.  The 
community  did  indeed  bow  down  and  serve  him, 
while  he  demanded  nothing,  and  would  have  rebuked 
her  assertion  of  their  attitude  impatiently.  He  did, 
in  fact,  combine  the  respect  due  to  the  fifth  genera 
tion  of  Godfearing  ancestry,  with  the  admiration 
of  a  man  who,  having  seen  much  of  the  wide 
world,  had  chosen  the  better  part  at  last,  his  birth 
place.  To  the  rural  mind  this  was  an  unanswer 
able  argument  for  his  good  sense  and  stability, 
heightening  their  own  valuation  of  ancestral  acres 
none  too  fertile,  and  lives  none  too  eventful. 

It  was  not  strange  that  Stephanie  felt  the  at 
mosphere  of  the  place.  The  house  was  one  of 
archives.  It  boasted  its  letters  on  file  from  men 
of  note,  filled  with  familiar  mention  of  women  and 
men  whose  names  shone  brighter  as  the  years  fled 
on.  It  had  that  subtle  background  of  culture  and 
increment  of  anterior  generation.  Books  and 
pamphlets  carried  presentation  inscriptions.  The 
various  editions  of  the  classics  had  on  their  title 
pages  the  names  of  the  Randalls  from  great-grand 
father  downward.  An  aristocracy  of  fine  taste, 
displayed  by  accumulation  of  the  best  in  art  and 
richest  in  friendship,  was  supplemented  by  the  sev 
eral  congressional  libraries,  retained,  for  senti 
ment's  sake,  on  the  walls  of  the  long  hall  off  the 


42  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

library ;  evidencing  the  value  of  former  Randalls 
to  their  country's  ornament  and  service.  They  had 
been  a  mental  lot,  those  fine  old  dead  grandfath 
ers,  with  a  cavalier  twist  in  their  spirit  that  ac 
counted  for  the  un-Puritan  luxury  in  the  ornate 
bindings  of  their  Byrons  and  Keats,  and  even 
"  Watts  and  Select  " ;  —  as  well  as  Steven  Ran 
dall's  own  preference  for  a  generous  trencher  and 
profuse  service.  His  own  father  had  been  the 
first  of  them  to  marry  South. 

His  mother  had  brought  her  due  share  of  an 
cestral  silver  and  ample  tradition  to  mingle  with 
this  Northern  blood  and  memory.  Archives,  leg 
ends,  recurrent  customs,  that  followed  tradition  in 
evitable  and  unexplained,  were  here,  as  became  a 
family  of  distinction.  Stephanie  had  chosen  her 
own  rooms  on  the  north  wing,  to  be  nearer  the 
few  acres  of  timberland  that  skirted  that  side  of 
the  estate.  The  many  birch  and  beech  trees  gave 
it  something  the  effect  of  a  European  forest,  so 
free  of  underbrush  and  primitive  disorder,  and 
made  it  less  lonely  to  her  than  the  open  country. 
She  took  her  solitary  rambles  here,  always  sighing 
in  her  heart  for  the  sea.  The  little  dappled  lights 
and  scurrying  shadows  reminded  her  of  Fontain- 
bleau  and  the  quiet  reminded  her  of  Sister  Angela 
and  the  nuns,  and  prompted  her  naive  question  — 
"  Where  really  was  the  difference  between  a  coun 
try  house  in  America  and  the  convent  in  Paris  ?  " 


AT  SKY  HIGH  43 

So  it  happened  that  she  was  glad  when  Raleigh's 
friend  Jim  Trent  took  a  cottage  a  mile  or  so  up 
the  valley, —  since  another  woman  might  also 
mean  another  man,  coming  and  going,  guests,  vis 
its;  something  to  relieve  the  situation  of  its  entire 
monotony  when  Raleigh  was  away,  attending  to 
mines  and  meetings  and  government  committees, 
—  where  his  name  appeared  as  chairman  or  direc 
tor  in  the  records  of  the  next  day's  papers,  which 
she  never  read.  Grandee  was  glad  for  his  own 
reasons.  He  was,  from  time  to  time,  disabled  by 
a  form  of  heart  attack  that  had  seized  upon  him 
of  late,  also  an  inheritance,  accompanying  the 
claw  footed  mahogany  and  fabled  ghost  which  were 
the  family  pride.  He  immediately  gave  a  dinner 
party  where  the  two  women,  Raleigh's  ex-fiancee 
and  his  wife,  observed  each  other  without  more 
than  opportunity  for  a  mutually  reserved  judg 
ment. 

Stephanie  had  seen  her  pass  on  horseback,  rid 
ing  cross-saddle  like  any  boy,  and  had  heard  the 
sharp  Walkyrie  cry  she  gave,  in  response  to  the 
shrill  whistle  of  greeting  Grandee  always  sent  her 
from  his  high  balcony  above,  which  commanded 
the  village  highway  running  along  the  side  of  the 
terraced  gardens.  They  seemed  on  familiar,  even 
affectionate  terms,  these  two, —  the  breezy  young 
matron  and  the  fading  man  of  the  world.  Ra 
leigh  spoke  of  the  Trents  as  family  friends  of  long 


44  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

standing.  It  was  not  until  the  party  broke  up, 
that  the  two  women  really  measured  each  other, 
and  took  the  first  position  for  what  might  prove 
a  duel  of  friendship,  or  a  carefully  preserved  neu 
trality.  Christine  was  boldly  blonde,  and  built  on 
a  generous  scale.  In  her  presence,  Stephanie 
made  one  even  more  subtly  aware  of  herself  as 
being  rare,  cherished,  adored.  To  her  pretty  gra- 
ciousness  of  manner,  implying  more  than  it  ex 
pressed  of  pleasure,  and  feeling  far  less, —  Chris 
tine  responded  with  an  unaffected  warmth. 

"  I  shall  come  very,  very  soon  to  see  you,  and 
really  get  acquainted !  "  she  promised. 

As  if  any  one  could  ever  do  that  with  Stephanie ! 

Far  from  cherishing  any  resentment  toward  her 
traitor  lover  of  earlier  years,  Christine  declared 
herself  frankly  grateful  to  him  for  setting  her  free 
for  a  greater  happiness,  ready  at  hand  in  her  be 
loved  Jim. 

The  first  time  she  found  herself  alone  with  him, 
she  extended  her  hand  without  a  hint  of  malice, 
saying,  "  I  want  to  thank  you,  Raleigh,  for  doing 
me  the  greatest  service  any  one  ever  did  for  me  in 
all  my  life.  I  shall  never  forget  to  be  grateful. 
If  I  can  ever  do  anything  for  you — "  the  implica 
tion  was  boundless. 

It  had  been  distinctly  a  relief  to  him  at  the  time, 
opening  the  way  for  restored  relations  between  the 
families,  which  might  have  remained  strained. 


AT  SKY  HIGH  45 

But  otherwise,  as  he  thought  of  it  afterward,  he 
was  not  sure  he  liked  her  being  so  humbly  glad  to 
get  rid  of  him.  Though  he  never  doubted  her  sin 
cerity  in  every  word  she  said,  be  it  remembered 
for  his  credit.  No  one  could  doubt  Christine. 
They  were  all  soon  on  terms  of  country  neighbour 
hood  intimacy,  less  formal  than  those  in  town,  but 
with  long  intervals  between  visits,  according  to 
weather,  personal  interests  or  changing  mood. 
One  morning  in  June  when  Christine  had  been  up 
on  Grandee's  balcony,  she  came  down  to  find 
Stephanie  at  the  piano  in  the  music  room,  where 
the  long  French  windows  stood  open  toward  the 
west. 

Stephanie's  foot  was  on  the  soft  pedal.  She 
seemed  to  be  talking  to  herself,  as  she  ran  softly 
over  the  keys  from  time  to  time,  as  if  completing 
the  expression  of  unspoken  thoughts  they  touched 
and  dropped  away  from.  She  did  not  entirely 
stop  as  they  chatted  together.  Christine  was  in 
her  habit.  Her  face  was  a  trifle  over-flushed  from 
her  vigourous  exercise,  her  eyes  full  of  the  glory 
of  the  morning. 

"  It  is  so  good  to  ride  again !  "  she  exclaimed. 
She  had  said  it  twice  before.  It  was  the  varia 
tion  her  heart  was  playing  round  her  recently  re 
covered  health  and  happiness. 

"  You  have  given  it  up  for  some  time,  then  ?  " 
Stephanie  asked  idly. 


46  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

"  Just  a  year,  in  all  — " 

"  How  stupid !  And  did  you  not  detest  having 
some  one  ride  your  horse?  I  admire  your  great 
beast  extravagantly !  " 

"  No  one  but  father's  groom,  Martin,  rode  the 
mare.  He  kept  her  in  order.  But  I  did  miss  her 
ridiculously,  for  the  mother  of  a  family." 

"  You  love  to  ride  very  much  ?  " 

"  You  see  it  has  been  part  of  my  life,"  Christine 
explained.  "  We  rode  all  the  time  when  we  were 
engaged.  We  even  took  our  wedding  trip  on  horse 
back." 

"  Really  ?  How  original.  How  like  two  men !  " 
commented  Stephanie,  sharping  a  chord  gently. 

"  Yes,  it  was  fine !  "  cried  Christine,  pulling  off 
her  .long  gloves  as  if  again  raising  her  crop  to  set 
her  mount  off  on  a  wild  gallop. 

"  What  strong  hands  you  have  I  "  said  Stephanie. 
"  Like  a  man's  hand,  only  so  small  and  white ! " 

"  They  are  not  much  for  beauty,  I  will  admit," 
said  Christine,  laughing.  "  They  can  hold  a  run 
ning  horse  and  soothe  a  little  baby,  though." 

"  There  is  something, —  I  don't  know  how  to  say 
it, —  rather  like  a  goddess  about  you  — "  Stephanie 
said,  with  her  head  on  one  side,  critically. 

"  Too  big,  you  mean  ?  "  Christine  said  it  good 
naturedly. 

"  Not  that, —  something ;  how  does  it  say  itself 
in  English?  of  life,  a  youth,  an  abundance — " 


AT  SKY  HIGH  47 

"  That  is  only  because  I  am  so  happy !  Jim  is 
an  angel,  the  children  are  well,  the  new  baby  is  a 
seraph,  and  I  am  in  the  heavenly  choir  all  the 
time.  Don't  you  see  ?  " 

"  You  are  fond  of  children,  then  ?  "  Stephanie 
asked,  not  as  a  conventional  assertion,  but  really 
as  if  in  her  mind  it  was  a  question.  Christine 
stared  at  her. 

"  I  adore  them !     Don't  you  ?  " 

"  They  are  rarely  interesting  until  they  are  old 
enough  to  have  a  personality — " 

"  But  they  are  so  absorbing !  " 

"  And  so  inconvenient,  Raleigh  says." 

"  Raleigh  ought  not  to  say  such  things.  He 
ought  to  realise  what  a  companion  a  child  is.  He 
is  away  so  much, — "  began  Christine,  with  a  young 
mother's  tendency  to  set  the  whole  world  fight, 
after  her  own  scheme  of  perfection. 

"  They  are  not  companions,  either,  until  they 
are  older  — "  objected  Stephanie.  "  Raleigh  says 
they  are  a  form  of  protoplasm.  He  finds  them 
crude.  Naturally  he  regards  them  as  a  detail  of 
love  only,  more  as  one  does  with  us  abroad." 

"  Perhaps  they  are  not  companions  of  the  head, 
in  one  sense,  but  they  are  of  the  heart,"  Christine 
took  her  up,  scandalised.  Stephanie  shrugged  on 
the  piano,  at  least  it  sounded  so. 

"  Raleigh  says  it  is  not  possible  to  bring  up  a 
family  when  one  is  so  constantly  changing  place. 


48  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

Of  course  his  career  now  is  of  the  very  first  im 
portance  to  him.  It  is  impossible  for  him  to  think 
of  adopting  those  responsibilities  until  he  is  able 
to  definitely  establish  himself  as  he  wishes." 

Stephanie  spoke  as  if  she  had  been  stating  their 
plans  for  the  summer,  instead  of  their  deliberate 
intention  to  thwart  creation  of  its  due,  under  the 
divinely  appointed  authority  of  heaven.  She  saw 
no  reason  to  leave  Christine  in  doubt  or  ignorance 
of  Raleigh's  position.  She  had  the  foreign  frank 
ness  in  speech  that  avoids  misleading  judgment, 
however  it  may  embarrass  the  reticence  of  the  lis 
tener. 

"  Jim  has  always  felt  our  marriage  was  excep 
tional,"  Jim's  wife  pursued,  convinced  of  a  mes 
sage  and  a  mission, — "  You  see,  it  was  not  an 
ordinary  love  affair,  from  the  start — " 

"  They  never  are.  Love  affairs,  I  mean,"  said 
Stephanie  gently. 

"  Jim  is  such  an  altruist !  In  his  second  love 
letter,  he  said  he  was  sure  God  had  chosen  us  to 
interpret  the  meaning  of  true  love  to  the  world. 
We  feel  that  we  have  a  message,  that  there  is  a 
great  opportunity  and  responsibility  in  our  excep 
tional  happiness." 

"Yes?    To  whom?"  Stephanie  queried  politely. 

"  To  every  one.  To  the  community  we  live  in 
and  to  the  world.  Jim  has  such  noble  ideals!  He 
would  never  be  content  to  rest  in  his  own  happi- 


AT  SKY  HIGH  49 

ness  and  not  try  to  influence  others  through  the 
power  that  comes  from  loving  and  being  loved." 

"  I  understand, —  he  is  a  socialist  d'amour !  " 
cried  Stephanie,  her  eyebrows  arched  enchantingly 
over  her  pleasure  at  her  discovery.  Christine 
drew  a  long  breath. 

"  Of  course  if  God  singles  one  out  for  a  great 
happiness  or  a  great  sorrow,  one  must  not  fail  to 
reach  out  and  give  the  message  as  broadly  as  one 
can,"  she  gravely  insisted. 

"  And  how  marvellous  it  must  be  to  imagine  the 
bon  Dieu  really  concerning  himself  with  one's 
small  affairs,  like  that !  "  cried  Stephanie,  inwardly 
thanking  the  saints  that  Raleigh  suffered  from  no 
such  hallucination,  while  aloud  she  asked: 

"  You  do  not  consider  marriage  for  one's  own 
satisfaction,  then  ?  " 

"  Oh,  far,  far  from  it !  That  seems  such  a  low 
level  of  loving.  I  think  of  it  as  a  supreme  privi 
lege.  The  joy  of  it  comes  from  sacrifice,  from  ac 
cepting  the  solemn  responsibilities  and  giving  ev 
erything  one  is  to  it,  without  reserve.  It  is  im 
mortal  and  triumphant,  infinite  in  resource !  " 

"  And  you  are  so  young, —  and  really  so  very 
handsome !  "  admitted  Stephanie  mystified.  "  And 
yes,  I  believe  you  are  quite  sincere.  Is  it,  then, 
that  all  the  American  wives  do  their  marriages  in 
this  same  public  spirit?" 

"  I  suppose  the  more  thoughtful  a  woman  is, 


50  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

the  less  she  wants  to  live  for  herself,  whether  she 
marries  or  not,"  Christine  said  slowly.  "  But  I 
must  admit  we  are  ambitious,  not  for  ourselves, 
but  for  our  husbands.  We  want  them  to  succeed 
of  course.  We  do  all  we  can  to  help  them  get 
on." 

"  It  sounds  more  like  business  than  marriage  — " 

"  It  is  a  sort  of  partnership,  in  the  highest 
sense." 

"  And  more  like  ambition  than  love,"  com 
mented  Stephanie.  "  And  your  freedom, —  when 
does  that  arrive  to  you  ?  " 

Christine  was  smiling  again.  "  We  have  that 
before  we  are  married.  We  have  so  much  of  it 
that  we  do  not  want  any  more." 

"  But  surely  not !  How  is  it  possible  ?  Not 
when  you  are  in  the  convent,  certainly  ?  " 

"  Why  yes,  especially  in  our  school  and  college 
days.  We  do  not  go  to  convents  for  our  educa 
tion  very  often,  in  this  country.  Everybody  tells 
us  our  school  days  are  our  happiest,  and  helps 
to  make  them  so.  We  expect  to  take  up  our  cares 
later,  so  we  put  them  off  till  we  have  homes  of  our 
own,  and  when  they  come,  we  find  they  are  very 
sweet,  sweeter  than  any  pleasure  we  knew  before." 

"  And  so  you  cheat  life  of  its  '  black  beast '  all 
along  your  route?  That  is  very  adroit  of  you. 
But  with  us  it  is  not  so  arranged.  If  our  mar 
riage  were  to  lay  a  chain  on  us,  after  the  impris- 


AT  SKY  HIGH  51 

onment  of  our  girlhood,  we  should  be  always  noth 
ing  better  than  captives.  First  our  guardians, 
then  our  husbands  would  control  us.  In  Europe, 
after  all,  a  husband  is  either  a  convention  or  a 
tyrant."  Christine  pronounced  her  declaration  of 
independence  confidently  — "  Love  attends  to  all 
that  over  here.  We  forget  ourselves  when 
we  love,  however  selfish  we  may  have  been  be 
fore," 

"  You  are  a  very  strange  race  — "  mused 
Stephanie,  running  a  scale  softly.  "  One  finds  you 
so  cold,  so  without  passion,  so  intensely  ambitious, 
—  I  less  and  less  understand  you." 

"  We  are  not  as  temperamental  as  other  races, 
but  of  course  every  woman  must  work  out  her  own 
life  problem  for  herself,"  began  Christine  reflec 
tively,  looking  out  of  the  long  window  where  a 
veerie  was  nesting  confidently  in  the  shrubbery,  to 
the  dear  familiar  meadows  beyond. 

"  Or  be  content  to  let  it  be  decided  for  her  " — 
said  Stephanie,  breaking  into  a  waltz.  Just  then 
Grandee's  personal  servant  entered,  "  Beg  pardon 
Madame,  but  Mr.  Randall  sends  word  would  you 
play  the  Viennese  waltz  you  were  playing  earlier? 
He  regrets  to  interrupt  you,  but  it  is  still  running 
in  his  head." 

Christine  rose  to  go.  She  was  not  especially 
musical,  and  music  in  the  morning  seemed  out  of 
all  drawing  to  her  industrious  heart  intent  on  the 


52  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

welfare  of  others.  After  she  had  ridden  away 
Stephanie  played  not  only  the  waltzes,  but  a  Hun 
garian  rhapsodic,  and  then  some  odd  folk  songs, 
with  an  accompaniment  oddly  imitative  of  the  bell- 
like  instrument  of  the  Hungarian  peasant.  Sud 
denly  she  began  to  sing.  It  was  not  a  large  voice, 
but  it  had  been  trained,  or  one  might  almost  say 
stained,  in  the  convent  by  the  thrilling  intonations 
of  sacred  words,  and  it  rose  up  now  through  the 
open  windows  with  striking  refreshment  to  the  in 
valid  in  his  eyrie.  To  Steven  Randall  she  was  the 
perpetual  contribution  of  the  foreign  element  he 
loved,  in  his  monotonous  days.  She  never  tired 
him,  and  his  eyes  feasted  on  her  piquant  and 
dainty  outline,  finding  in  her  always  the  same  be 
witchment  of  the  little  girl  in  her  lace  frock  and 
rose-coloured  sashes  of  Carlsbad.  When  she  fin 
ished  playing,  she  went  to  the  old-fashioned  pier 
glass  between  the  long  windows.  It  seemed  more 
like  home  to  her  than  any  other  feature  of  her  sur 
roundings.  She  accosted  her  own  image  in  it 
fondly,  if  a  trifle  resentfully.  To  Christine  out 
side,  the  glory  of  green  on  the  lush  meadow-land 
by  the  river,  where  some  acres  of  grass  were  wav 
ing  yet,  and  the  odour  of  hay  being  made  close  be 
low,  came  up  with  the  joy  of  the  familiar.  Not 
only  this  summer  day  was  in  her  nostrils,  but  all 
the  hot  long  summer  days'  of  a  country  child's 
revived  recollection.  She  had  ridden  in  on  the 


AT  SKY  HIGH  53 

fragrant  humpy  loads  of  hay  that  the  elms  tore 
at,  and  the  blackberry  vines  snatched  for,  as  they 
toiled  past  up  the  hill.  She  had  lain  still  under  the 
eaves  of  the  great  cool  barn,  and  been  delighted  to 
find  herself  so  near  the  dark  roof  and  giant  spider 
webs,  or  to  look  down  from  this  high  point  of  van 
tage  right  into  the  nest  of  an  oriole,  swung  in  the 
branches  near.  To  Christine,  it  all  brought  back 
the  sweetness  and  sanity  of  real  things.  She  knew 
the  honest  hunger  and  thirst  of  the  toilers  in  the 
torrid  sun  of  the  noontide.  The  primal  joy  of 
rest,  the  assuaging  coolness  of  the  spring  as  it 
rippled  in  the  shade  by  the  roadside,  were  native  to 
her,  as  they  were  to  Steven  Randall,  who  after  his 
wide  wanderings  found  here  that  dearness  of  asso 
ciation  which  is  the  youth  of  age. 

But  for  Stephanie,  to  whom  the  landscape  had  no 
background  of  passion  as  abroad,  it  was  all  rather 
flat  and  uninteresting, —  dull  even.  She  missed  the 
towered  castles,  fortifications,  and  bugling  soldiers 
looping  away  in  the  morning  distance.  And  so 
May  had  deepened  into  June;  her  mind  unoccupied 
and  her  heart  grown  vagrant  if  not  actually  disor 
dered.  She  remembered  all  the  light  stirrings  of 
fluttering  romance  she  had  dimly  known.  She  re 
called  men  who  had  been  her  admirers,  who  might 
have  been  lovers, —  and  here  life  was  uneventful 
and  long,  and  from  the  windows  she  saw  only  the 
repeated  meadows  and  open  country.  And  only 


54  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

echo  sang  a  siren  song"  of  all  she  had  cared  for 
and  left  behind ;  gallantry,  romance,  passion.  And 
though  the  sun  made  hay  with  an  unabated  fury 
outside,  in  her  heart  the  plover  was  ceaselessly 
calling  for  rain,  for  shadow,  for  all  the  mystic 
tracery  of  the  hidden  and  subtle  to  replace  this 
existence  of  the  apparent  and  impersonal.  "  He- 
las!  but  it  is  triste, —  triste  to  waste  one's 
youth  here  alone  1  "  she  confided  to  her  reflection. 
She  clasped  her  slender  waist  in  her  white  hands 
covered  with  great  jewels,  as  she  whispered  it. 
She  was  slender  as  a  rose.  Her  dawn-kissed  col 
ouring,  the  exact  tinting  of  her  flesh,  gave  her 
the  hint  of  one.  She  found  herself  musing  idly 
of  a  man  she  had  met  the  week  before  at  a  dinner 
at  one  of  the  villas  on  the  hills.  He  had  not  taken 
her  out  to  dinner,  but  watched  her  fascinated,  and 
came  to  her  the  moment  he  was  free.  He  had  been 
in  Europe  uninterruptedly  for  three  years  and  was 
immediately  returning,  he  told  her.  They  were 
not  strangers.  Her  first  remark  had  led  the  way 
for  no  ordinary  conversation. 

"  You  had  not  forgotten  me  ? "  he  challenged. 
She  so  understood  it  at  least. 

"  Not  in  the  least,  but  you  had  forgotten  me. 
Yes,  men  do  forget,"  as  he  tried  to  interrupt  her 
with  his  denial. 

"  Do  men  forget  ?  Do  they  ?  I  wish  they  did. 
I  have  sought  but  one  thing  more  than  to  forget ! " 


AT  SKY  HIGH  55 

She  cast  her  eyes  demurely  down,  but  it  was  very 
diverting,  this  meeting. 

"  You  did  not  have  a  suspicion  of  finding  me 
here  in  this  so  Puritan  village  ?  " 

"  You  in  America !  You  here  in  perpetual  dry 
dock,  no!  Unless  your  bon  Dieu  hears  some 
prayers  as  persistent  and  fervent  as  mine,  which 
have  been  utterly  untiring  since  our  last  parting 
that  April  day  in  Paris.  I  hear  the  fountains  yet 
—  I  shall  always  hear  them  when  I  think  of  you." 

"  You  rode  by  ,  me  at  dusk  this  evening,"  she 
said  hastily,  "  I  was  the  other  side  of  the  wall  sur 
rounding  the  park  at  Sky  High.  I  could  swear  you 
were  reading  a  woman's  letter,  or  pretending  to. 
A  letter  written  on  faint  blue  paper,  abominable 
colour!  Probably  scented, —  the  tint  a  femme 
de  chambre  might  use  for  her  lover " —  she 
mocked. 

"  It  is  true  you  saw  me  smiling  over  a  pale  blue 
letter.  A  child's  scribble  it  was  —  that  of  a  petite 
of  twenty,  a  veritable  baby  half  awake  — " 

"But  pretty?" 

"  Pretty  of  course,  and  afraid  of  horses, —  in- 
genu,  in  short." 

"  I  am  not  jealous." 

"  I  wish  you  were  —  if  you  were  — " 

"  I  have  no  right  to  be  and  if  I  had  the  right, 
I  should  not  be, —  for  rights  only  imply  tedious 
things,"  she  sighed,  half  closing  her  eyes  that 


56  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

sparkled  through  her  lowered  lashes.  "  But  in  a 
village,  with  no  opera,  no  casino,  no  plage,  no  af 
fair, —  or  only  such  a  ghost  of  a  dead  one  as  this, 
what  is  an  honest  woman  to  do?  Mon  Dieu  it  was 
different  once,  was  it  not  ?  " 

"  It  was  between  us,  once  — "  he  began. 

"  You  were  always  a  brute !  "  she  smiled  allur 
ingly  at  him,  "  but  at  least  you  did  know  what  love 
was.  I  detest  blue." 

"  Was  it  a  brute  who  all  but  sacrificed  his  honour 
to  secure  L'Hirondelle,  the  white-footed  mare 
you  rode  those  summer  days  in  Normandie,  when 
we  were  learning  the  roads  of  love  together?  Do 
men  forget !  See  how !  Thou  knowest  it  is  not  so  " 
-  falling  unconsciously  into  the  more  intimate 
speech  of  their  past, — "  Do  men  forget !  Is  it  be 
cause  they  forget,  that  I  have  kept  her  with  me  ever 
since?  I,  who  was  nearly  driven  mad  by  thy  fasci 
nation  and  then  deserted, —  promising  everything 
and  leaving  me  without  a  word  !  And  not  alone  my 
self,  but  also  my  friend, —  for  whom  I  was  aban 
doned,"  he  added. 

"  He  is  well,  I  hope,"  she  suggested. 

"  What  has  happened  to  him,  I  never  knew.  His 
friends  have  lost  him.  He  cared  no  more, —  when 
he  was  thrown  aside  with  the  dead  flowers  of  that 
summer."  He  leaned  toward  her  until  their 
shoulders  touched. 

"  Will   you    ride   with   me   to-morrow   at   nine  ? 


AT  SKY  HIGH  57 

Is  it  not  possible  to  leave  this  Puritan  village  at 
once,  and  together  ?  "  he  had  gone  beyond  the  pale 
in  his  excitement,  and  the  surprise  of  their  encoun 
ter.  Her  answer  had  driven  the  pleasure  from  his 
face, — "  I  am  leaving  myself  to-morrow,  for  a 
time,  and  not  alone.  I  am  married." 

"  Adieu,"  he  said  firmly, —  bending  to  kiss  her 
hand. 

"  Au  revoir,  if  you  choose,"  she  replied,  and  in 
her  ears,  was  the  splash  of  the  surf  as  they  had 
ridden,  into  it  on  the  plage  of  Normandie.  Her 
heart  shook  with  terror  of  the  resurrection  of  her 
pleasure,  of  her  sin,  and  her  madness  for  this  friend 
he  had  mentioned,  the  first  lover  she  had  known 
and  measured  as  her  equal  in  potential  passion. 

She  shook  off  her  retrospection  now,  turning 
back  to  herself  in  the  mirror  with  mock  despair. 
"  Poor  darling !  To  what  a  fate  you  are  reduced ! 
To  be  obliged  to  admire  yourself !  "  she  said,  as  if 
playing  again  one  of  her  games  of  lonely  child 
hood.  Under  its  soft  hair  always  so  elaborately 
dressed,  her  small  head  had  a  little  the  langour  of 
a  heavy  flower.  Her  eyes  were  indolent  oftenest, 
leaving  expression  of  her  passing  emotions  to  those 
remarkable  eyebrows.  She  was  rather  exquisite 
than  beautiful.  Her  slight  hips  and  sloping  shoul 
ders  suggested  a  Greek  boy  and  made  the  delicacy 
of  her  femininity  more  striking.  In  her  loose  sum 
mer  morning  gown  with  its  high  silken  sash,  her' 


58  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

light  limbs  would  have  beguiled  Burne  Jones  to 
place  her  among  the  maidens  of  his  golden  stair. 
Neither  drapery  or  lace  concealed  the  delicate  con 
tour  of  her  perfect  figure, —  a  breast  where  mis 
chief  or  indifference  or  slumbering  passion  might 
dispute  a  lover's  possession.  Her  arms  escaping 
their  loose  sleeves  were  warm  and  waiting  —  She 
played  her  little  comedie  for  her  own  amusement, 
— "  Poor  darling !  to  be  obliged  to  embrace  your 
self  ! "  but  at  the  moment,  the  frightened  veerie 
flew  off  her  nest  with  a  cry  of  warning  to  her 
mate,  and  the  sound  of  wheels  grated  on  the  gravel. 
Raleigh  had  returned  unannounced,  it  seemed. 
She  went  toward  him,  instantly  transformed  to  the 
woman  of  the  world,  his  wife,  Mrs.  Raleigh 
Payne.  He  kissed  her  enthusiastically,  patting  her 
between  her  shoulders  after  the  manner  of  the 
great  American  husband. 

"  Well,  how  have  you  been  ?  "  he  asked.  "  What 
is  there  to  eat,  darling?  Any  breakfast  left?  T 
am  just  in  from  Denver.  Jim  ran  me  over,  so  I 
did  not  wire  for  a  trap." 


CHAPTER  IV 

RIDING  ALONE 

RALEIGH  PAYNE  was  not  surprised  that 
some  one  was  to  be  sent  to  protect 
America's  interests  for  her  outraged  Chris 
tians.  The  morning  papers  were  full  of  it.  He 
read  them  while  the  odour  of  new  mown  hay  came 
in  at  the  French  windows  and  the  veerie  called 
from  the  shrubbery.  The  telegram  urging  him  im 
mediately  to  the  summer  headquarters  of  his  gov 
ernment  was  however  unlocked  for.  And  at  the 
first  blush  it  was  unwelcome.  He  had  rather  inti 
mate  and  fondly  matured  notions  of  his  own  for 
disposal  of  this  particular  summer.  He  regarded 
the  yellow  message  with  not  too  much  pleasure, 
though  it  gave  him  assurance  of  his  own  promi 
nence  in  the  minds  of  those  supreme  in  power. 
There  was  after  all  a  distinct  elation  in  reading  the 
succinctly  worded  command  underlying  the  civil 
notification.  But  there  was  also  that  moment  of 
personal  regret, —  which  had  in  it  however  no  least 
element  of  indecision.  He  was  going  of  course. 
He  had  gone  mentally, —  was  already  past  the  pre 
liminary  formalities,  had  received  his  credentials 
and  instructions  and  stood  again  in  fancy  in  the 

59 


60  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

smoking  room  of  the  bizarre  hotel  he  had  fre 
quented  of  old;  the  one  facing  the  water  at  Buda 
Pesth.  He  had  been  out  to  the  Balkans  several 
times  before,  but  never  on  a  mission  of  such  di 
rect  authority  and  importance.  He  finished  his 
coffee  with  his  mind  far  away.  Buda  Pesth  was 
before  his  inward  vision, —  Buda  glittering,  auda 
cious,  the  lair  of  license  and  self-made  law  at  the 
scimiter's  blade!  Then  Belgrade  blotted  it  out  — 
Belgrade  the  bloody  home  of  assassination;  Peter 
Georgevitch  with  his  boat  tied  always  to  the  river- 
washed  stairway  behind  the  palace,  in  case  of  sud 
den  enmity ;  tragic  plot  and  bungling  slaughter ;  hu 
man  beings  half  savage,  regal  assumption,  pretence 
and  brutal  revenge,  promises  made  only  for  purpose 
of  swifter  deception, —  in  short  Macedonia,  that 
arena  of  religious  liberty,  for  political  frenzy,  for 
personal  lust  and  greed  for  power.  He  had  no  il 
lusions  concerning  that  semi-civilised  peninsula, — 
the  resource  of  careerists  from  the  scum  of  Eu 
rope,  the  grave  of  patriots;  that  seething  mass 
whose  future  is  under  eclipse  of  a  red  sun  yet  to 
rise,  doomed  to  barbaric  massacre  and  fanatical 
mania ;  their  blazing  roofs  lit  by  the  Turk  or  his 
enemy  as  wanton  destruction  may  dictate;  French 
cooking  and  oriental  human  butchery  side  by  side ; 
Manon's  farewell,  with  its  last  note  of  erotic  Paris 
played  at  table  d'hote  while  the  shrieks  of  women 
outraged  by  soldiers  in  the  streets  are  still  un- 


RIDING  ALONE  61 

silenced.  Raleigh  Payne  knew  the  risk  he  ran  in 
answering  the  summons  he  held  in  his  hand.  He 
went  up  to  Steven  Randall  holding  it  open  and 
walking  as  a  man  does  whose  body  and  mind  are 
not  occupied  in  the  same  activity.  They  plunged 
at  once  into  every  sort  of  political  detail.  Randall 
knew  Bulgaria  and  was  keen  for  following  up  the 
exigencies  of  present  conditions  and  conjecturing 
the  outcome. 

"  The  personal  equation  has  more  to  do  with  the 
chance  for  peace  than  most  outsiders  know,  or 
those  inside  will  admit.  A  good  deal  depends  on 
Peter,  after  all,"  he  said. 

"  What  about  the  sons  ?  Do  they  come  into  the 
proposition  ?  " 

"  One  is  too  young,  the  other  a  *  farceur,'  a  de 
generate  who  plays  the  role  of  young  tyrant  with 
sufficient  bravado  to  dazzle  some  of  such  subjects 
as  his  father's  empire  consists  of.  Paris  gave  him 
a  smattering  of  the  worst  kind  of  knowledge.  He 
is  a  swaggering,  vile-tempered  lad,  handsome  in  an 
effeminate  way,  who  orders,  '  heads  off  all 
around ! '  like  the  Red  Queen  in  Alice  in  Wonder 
land." 

"  No  real  force  of  character  or  leadership  ?  " 

"  Force  could  not  do  it  alone,  out  there,"  said 
Raleigh  judicially.  "It  takes  magnetism  and  su 
perstition  too." 

"What  is  Ferdinand  good  for?    He  and  Peter 


62  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

rather  keep  the  front  doors  of  that  region ;  have 
the  appearance  of  soverignty,  I  mean,"  Randall 
discriminated. 

"  There  is  no  force  in  any  present  reign  to  be 
relied  on,  once  the  military  is  demoralised.  No 
one's  head  will  be  safe  long,  one  way  or  the  other, 
to  my  mind."  As  Raleigh  spoke  he  went  to  the 
table  where  all  sorts  of  maps  and  charts  lay  ready 
for  instant  service.  He  selected  one  of  the  Bal 
kans,  and  spread  it  out  between  them,  as  Steven 
Randall  continued,  "  One  plot  just  as  likely  to  suc 
ceed  as  another.  One  intrigue  tripping  up  another 
in  the  dark,  and  the  end  of  one  party  assured  by 
the  machinations  of  the  opposing  faction.  A  ruler 
escapes  by  falling  between  armed  bandits  who  are 
after  his  throne  and  fall  upon  each  other  by  mis 
take." 

"  Exactly,"  nodded  Raleigh,  "  and  the  murder 
ers  are  murdered  themselves  in  turn  by  those  who 
instigated  their  crime,  to  cover  themselves  from 
suspicion  and  wash  their  hands  in  face  of  the  mob, 
before  attempting  to  mount  the  throne.  It  is  a 
seething  bloody  mass,  a  mere  disorderly  mob  out 
there." 

Randall  re-read  the  telegram.  His  breath  quick 
ened.  How  he  would  have  loved  to  obey  that  curt 
summons!  How  he  thrilled  to  his  old  vocation 
with  the  thousand  comprehending  thrills  of  an  old 
war  horse,  at  the  scent  of  a  distant  fray! 


RIDING  ALONE  63 

"  When  do  you  go?  "  was  his  only  question. 

"  At  once  I  suppose.     I  judge  it  is  immediate." 

"  Apparently." 

The  telegram  lay  on  the  table  between  them. 
Stephanie  had  laid  a  rose  there  on  her  way  from 
her  own  room  half  an  hour  earlier.  As  the  two 
men  stood  discussing  the  situation,  their  eyes  were 
accosted  by  this  mute  protest.  Neither  had  taken 
Stephanie  into  account,  or  at  least  not  in  so  many 
words. 

She  stepped  in  now  from  the  balcony,  hesitated, 
noting  their  preoccupation,  and  would  have  passed 
on,  but  that  Raleigh  handed  her  the  telegram, 
without  comment." 

"  My  eternal  rival,  business  ?  "  she  asked  sweetly, 
without  a  suspicion  of  the  truth.  Her  heart  gave 
no  premonition  of  what  it  might  'mean  to  her.  She 
read  it  and  gave  it  back  mechanically. 

"  That  is  to  say  — "  she  began. 

"  That  I  am  immediately  recalled  to  the  diplo 
matic  service,"  said  Raleigh,  already  on  his  way  to 
the  telephone  to  telegraph  the  hour  of  his  depar 
ture  — 

"  Beg  pardon,  Mr.  Payne,  St.  Louis  is  on  the 
long  distance,"  announced  the  butler,  precipitating 
his  exit. 

"What  does  it  mean,  Grandee?"  Stephanie 
asked,  turning  to  him  with  the  fond  soubriquet  she 
had  chosen  for  him  in  place  of  the  stupid  word 


64  THE  SIN  OF  'ANGELS 

"  Uncle,"  she  could  never  bring  herself  to  call 
him.  "  Is  it  anything  of  importance  ?  " 

"Possibly, —  that  depends,"  said  Randall,  his 
thoughts  still  far  away  on  that  troubled  peninsu 
lar  and  the  course  of  probable  event. 

"Is  it  business  or  diplomacy?"  she  asked  again. 
And  in  her  low  voice  there  was  that  reminiscent 
intonation  of  her  convent  training. 

"  Diplomacy,  with  a  chance  for  a  good  deal  of 
both,  perhaps.  It  works  both  ways  often  when  it 
works  out  in  the  end."  Her  cheeks  flushed 
eagerly. 

"  Abroad  ?  O  tell  me,  Grandee,  please,  is  it 
abroad  ?  "  she  begged,  forgetful  of  him  as  her  host, 
in  her  painful  excitement. 

"  The  Balkans,"  he  said  briefly. 

"And  he  is  going?  Surely  he  is  going?  Surely 
he  would  not  refuse?"  she  started  after  Raleigh 
as  if  to  prevent  it. 

"  Of  course  he  is  going.  Did  you  ever  know 
Raleigh  lose  a  chance  to  ride  on  the  front  seat, 
no  matter  if  it  was  his  own  funeral, —  no  matter 
what  it  cost  him  or  anybody  else  ?  " 

"  Coute  que  coute,  he  must  not  refuse !  "  she  said 
firmly.  "  I  will  accompany  him  as  far  as  Vienna 
and  there  await  his  return,  or  even  at  Buda,  as  he 
may  wish."  It  was  bravado,  the  last  half  of  her 
announcement.  She  knew  she  would  not  be  per 
mitted  to  set  one  of  her  high  heels  over  the  Aus- 


RIDING  ALONE  65 

trian  frontier.  She  had  heard  and  understood  too 
much  discussion  of  the  affairs  of  the  desperate 
Balkans,  had  too  often  seen  the  men,  from  every 
quarter  of  Europe,  excitedly  drawing  maps  of  Ser- 
via  and  Bulgaria  with  their  silver  forks  upon  the 
damask  cloth  of  state  dinner  tables  ;  —  forgetful  for 
the  moment  of  all  but  political  significance  and  geo 
graphical  importance.  She  knew  Raleigh  would 
never  dream  of  taking  her  out  with  him.  But 
while  he  manipulated  his  country's  affairs  and 
angled  for  his  own  diplomatic  prizes,  she  should 
again  be  restored  to  the  world  she  loved  and  for 
which  she  pined.  She  should  again  see  and  hear 
and  breathe!  It  would  mean  for  her  a  coming  to 
life  after  the  dull  inertia  of  a  long  season  in  this 
"  so  Puritan  "  retreat.  She  left  the  room  as  a  sun 
beam  withdraws, —  swiftly,  silently;  leaving  grey- 
ness  behind  her  to  emphasise  her  absence.  Steven 
Randall  remained  looking  after  her  as  if  he  saw 
her  still,  and  not  only  saw  her  but  her  relation  to 
the  event  of  the  morning.  His  face  clouded  as 
he  realised  her  inevitable  disappointment.  Raleigh 
would  never  hamper  himself  with  the  care  of  a 
frail  and  precious  object  like  this,  when  the  game 
of  diplomacy  was  to  be  played  at  a  moment's  no 
tice.  Kipling's  couplet  expressed  Raleigh's  senti 
ment  perfectly  — 

"  Down  to  Gehenna  or  up  to  the  throne 
He  rides  fastest  who  rides  alone." 


66  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

In  which  direction  was  his  nephew  riding?  That 
he  would  reach  his  appointed  destination  he  never 
doubted.  He  sometimes  wondered,  as  he  sat  there 
alone  save  for  his  books  and  his  thoughts,  if  it 
would  compensate  the  boy  for  all  he  had  let  go 
and  lost  and  been  unaware  of  on  his  spectacular 
ride  toward  his  self-set  goal.  He  admired  Ra 
leigh's  quality  profoundly.  He  could  not  help  see 
ing  that  it  lacked  a  certain  sacredness,  a  generosity 
of  being  that  included  the  welfare  of  others.  And 
he  feared  the  effect  of  a  change  he  had  dimly  per 
ceived  of  late  in  Raleigh,  which  he  could  only  de 
fine  to  himself  as  a  tolerance  of  compromise.  This 
he  felt  to  be  an  open  door  to  lower  standards,  both 
of  personal  behaviour  and  public  morality.  When 
Raleigh  came  back,  he  broke  into  another  side  of 
the  situation  without  preamble. 

"  You  will  leave  Stephanie  with  me,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  That  is  what  I  came  back  up  stairs  to  say. 
That  is,  if  it  does  not  inconvenience  you,  sir?" 

"  I  should  miss  her  sadly,"  Grandee  said  assur- 
ingly,  "  but  I  am  ashamed  to  be  glad  that  she  must 
be  left  behind.  She  will  suffer  to  our  gain, — 
after  the  habit  of  women." 

"  She  won't  mind,  after  the  first  blow.  She  is 
perfectly  happy  here.  She  is  devoted  to  you,  and 
she  has  Christine  and  the  babies  to  keep  her  con 
tent,"  Raleigh  enumerated  glibly. 

"  I  dread  to  see  her  unhappy,"  said  Randall,  pay- 


RIDING  ALONE  67 

ing  no  attention  to  him,  "  I  dread  also  the  conse 
quence  of  a  solitude  prolonged  against  her  will." 

"  Blood  will  tell,"  Raleigh  said  with  confidence. 

"Yes,  I  know.  And  will  hers  bear  re-telling?" 
It  was  the  only  sharp  thing  his  nephew  had  ever 
heard  him  say  in  regard  to  his  marriage.  He  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  say  .a  few  harsh  truths  to 
Raleigh  before  he  let  him  go,  for  Stephanie's 
sake.  Ambition  was  all  very  well,  it  was  natural, 
as  were  many  other  of  the  meaner,  baser  traits 
men  had  to  stamp  out  under  their  own  heel. 

"  You  owe  something  beside  fame  and  a  name, 
to  this  soul  you  have  taken  for  your  own  and  de 
prived  of  all  its  natural  supports  and  satisfactions," 
he  reminded  his  nephew.  "  How  long  can  a 
woman,  especially  a  woman  like  Stephanie,  be  ex 
pected  reasonably,  to  live  on  vicarious  fame  ? " 
He  smiled  at  the  absurdity  of  the  notion. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  I  am  neglecting  Stephanie, 
when  I  obey  the  call  of  my  profession  ?  " 

"  The  consequences  of  neglect  may  be  the  same, 
whatever  the  cause." 

"  I  am  sure  Stephanie  has  never  thought  of  it  in 
such  a  light.  She  has  been  instrumental  in  count 
less  glittering  conclusions  that  went  as  we  wanted 
them  to  go.  She  plays  her  part  as  consciously  as 
any  accredited  diplomat,  always  under  the  shadow 
of  my  influence  and  shielded  from  the  lightest 
breath  of  scandal.  Since  our  first  warning  in 


68  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

Rome,  soon  after  our  marriage,  when  I  was  so 
shortsighted  as  to  let  her  come  within  an  ace  of  a 
breakdown,  we  have  been  entirely  united  in  our 
plans.  We  have  played  our  game  to  win,  and 
played  it  together.  I  have  played  fair  and  I 
could  stake  my  life  she  has,  and  will.  We 
have  denied  ourselves  the  ordinary  joys  of 
less  complicated  and  ambitious  young  people  per 
haps,  but  we  have  been  in  harmony  always. 
Stephanie  adores  place  and  power  and  she  shall 
always  have  it  increasingly,  if  I  am  spared  to  get 
it  for  her!" 

"  I  hate  to  turn  pragmatist  and  meddle  with  mat 
ters  above  and  beyond  me,  Raleigh,"  was  the  un 
convinced  reply,  "  but  I  think  the  time  has  come 
to  treat  Stephanie  less  as  a  diplomatic  asset  and 
more  as  your  wedded  wife.  I  believe  if  you  starve 
the  woman  in  her  indefinitely,  it  will  find  its  natural 
appeal  answered  in  some  less  brilliant  but  more 
normal  agent  of  the  devil,  or  the  Almighty,  accord 
ing  to  the  way  Nature  happens  to  see  it." 

"  Mr.  Payne,  the  communication  is  established 
with  Chicago,  and  Central  would  like  you  to  use 
it  as  soon  as  convenient,"  said  the  butler  reappear 
ing.  It  was  always  this  same  old  story  when  Mr. 
Payne  was  in  the  house.  Sky  High  called  it  Pan 
demonium,  in  comparison  with  its  common  calm. 

Stephanie  had  waited  for  Raleigh  to  be  done  at 
the  telephone.  He  had  in  fact  but  laid  the  re- 


RIDING  ALONE  69 

ceiver  down  when  she  delivered  her  ultimatum 
and  congratulations  in  one  breath. 

"  Grandee  has  told  me.  I  am  enchanted.  Of 
course  you  are  going.  How  I  am  glad  and  proud ! 
When  do  we  start  ?  " 

Her  face  was  illuminated  by  the  sudden  joy  of 
deliverance.  Raleigh  dropped  the  pen  he  held. 
The  calculation  he  had  begun  was  broken  by  her 
interruption.  On  the  desk  before  him  a  map  of 
the  Balkans  was  propped  up,  over  which  his  regu 
lar  red  and  black  dots  represented  vital  realities  to 
him. 

"  I  have  no  instructions  yet,"  he  said  evasively, 
taking  her  outstretched  hand  in  both  his  own.  "  I 
shall  go  to  New  York  to-night  and  wire  from 
there." 

"  When  ought  we  to  sail  ?  "  she  asked,  assuming 
her  part  in  his  arrangements. 

"  Look  up  the  week's  sailings,  there's  a  darling," 
he  said,  tossing  her  the  morning  paper.  "  Find  a 
quick  boat,  a  Lloyd  probably,  for  Bremen.  There 
ought  to  be  one  on  Tuesday." 

He  turned  back  to  his  letter,  writing  deliberately 
as  if  weighing  his  words. 

Her  heart  beat  to  suffocation.  She  suddenly) 
remembered  Lazarus.  There  was  a  stained  glass 
window  embodying  his  legend,  that  had  been  fa 
miliar  to  her  in  a  chapel  at  Vienna.  This  was 
what  he  felt  then,  when  his  Lord  suddenly  called 


70  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

him  to  come  forth  from  his  tomb.  Her  breath 
cramped  her  breast  for  the  wild  joy  of  this  return 
to  life  and  the  living. 

"  Tuesday,"  she  read  out  to  Raleigh,  without  a 
hint  of  her  inward  storm. 

"Tuesday?    Which  boat  is  it?" 

She  told  him ;  with  a  flurry  of  soft  arms  about 
his  shoulders  and  a  red  mouth  close  to  his  own. 

"  Let  me  go  down  with  you  to-night ! "  she 
begged.  "  You  have  only  been  with  me  one  day, 
and  before  that  only  a  few  hours,  since  I  can  re 
member.  I  have  been  here  for  ever,  since  April, 
alone,  almost  all  the  time  alone.  I  am  devoted, 
sincerely,  to  Grandee,  and  I  have  not  been  too  un 
happy  here,  but  it  is  always  alone  and  I  am  not 
one  of  those  great  souls  born  for  solitude.  I  am 
nothing  but  a  woman,  good  for  nothing  but  to 
love  and  live  to  be  loved.  I  suffocate  for  pleasure, 
for  the  excitement  of  love  and  the  world,  for  love 
itself,  for  you  and  your  love,  which  is  mine  by 
right  as  well  as  by  treaty !  "  Again  she  invited  his 
kiss  with  those  near  lips. 

"  You  have  that  always,  you  know,"  he  said 
warmly,  patting  her  hand. 

"  You  say  so,"  she  repeated,  unfaith  in  her 
words. 

"  Then  what  more  do  you  want  ?  You  must  not 
be  silly,  darling!  " 

"  I   do  not  want  to  '  know  it/   for  granted.     I 


RIDING  ALONE  71 

want  you  to  make  me  feel  it,  here  —  "  she  touched 
her  heart,  then  his  lips,  with  a  light  caress  of  her 
frail  fingers.  He  attempted  to  draw  her  to  him 
but  she  withdrew  and  stood  with  her  proud  little 
head  thrown  back,  every  beauty  of  face  and  figure 
full  in  his  face,  as  she  flung  her  love  challenge  at 
him,  "  if  you  do  not  love  me,  some  one  else  will 
be  obliged  to.  I  am  made  only  for  love.  I  cannot 
live  without  love." 

He  would  not  admit  he  was  startled,  but  Gran 
dee's  warning  came  back  most  unpleasantly  as  he 
heard  her. 

"  Everybody  here  at  Sky  High  loves  you,  as  it 
is,"  he  retorted.  "  You  are  my  little  Queen  of 
Hearts.  Christine  is  your  wondering  first  Lady  in 
Waiting,  and  Grandee,  though  himself  a  crowned 
head,  your  humblest  subject.  Even  Joel  Under 
wood,  who  soured  on  everyone  in  his  youth,  has 
an  uncankered  endurance  of  you  as  you  walk 
through  his  flower-beds,  that  he  gives  only  to  his 
tallest  hollyhocks  when  he  has  cheated  the  blight  of 
their  perfection!  Even  that  newest  baby,  James 
Trent,  Jr.,  prefers  you  to  his  mother." 

Stephanie  did  not  smile.  "  You  may  think  you 
love  me,"  she  said  seriously,  "  perhaps  you  do,  but 
it  is  an  American  invention,  this  love  of  yours;  a 
long  distance  connection  after  the  manner  of  your 
telephones.  You  have  installed  it,  and  you  expect 
it  to  remain  in  service  unless  the  lightning  strikes 


72  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

it  and  it  burns  out.  Then  you  make  another  in 
stallation  and  think  no  more  about  it.  I  do  not 
comprehend  such  emotions." 

Impulsively  she  threw  herself  upon  his  breast. 
"  Put  your  arms  about  me,  listen  to  my  heart,  Ra 
leigh,  am  I  a  thing  of  steel?  Am  I  a  triumph  of 
machinery?  You  know  it  is  not  so.  Confess  I 
am  made  for  sweeter  satisfaction ! " 

"  But  a  man  cannot  be  always  at  his  Lady's  side, 
darling.  He  has  to  be  out  in  the  world  fighting 
for  her  fame,"  Raleigh  opposed,  parrying  the 
issue.  "  Grandee  would  be  distressed  to  know  you 
had  bored  yourself  here  with  him.  There  is  really 
quite  a  variety  one  can  make.  Have  you  driven 
about?" 

She  gently  disengaged  herself.  "  Do  you  like  to 
drive  about,  Raleigh  ? "  she  asked,  in  turn,  "  to 
drive  about,  up  and  down  on  these  hot  country 
roads,  with  never  the  diversion  of  a  Casino,  or  a 
boulevard  where  one  sees  others  driving?  Where 
one  never  stops  for  tea  or  music,  and  never  a  sigh 
of  wind  from  the  sea  to  make  one  refreshed  ?  " 

"  But  there  are  always  the  hills  and  their  chang 
ing  shadows  " —  he  began. 

"  So  Christine  finds,"  she  cut  him  short,  "  and 
Christine  also  is  content  here.  She  talks  of  Mr. 
Trent,  who  is  never  beside  her,  as  if  he  was  an  en 
terprise  in  which  her  fortune  was  risked.  If  his 
business  keeps  him  from  her  all  summer,  it  is  to  her 


RIDING  ALONE  73 

apparently  the  same  thing, —  the  accepted  and  ordi 
nary  course  of  affairs  with  your  married  people  in 
America.  Bah !  It  is  policy,  business,  what  you 
will, —  but  it  is  -not  love !  "  she  snapped  her  fingers 
like  a  gamin.  Her  great  rings  flashed  with  impre 
cation. 

"  I  thought  you  cared  as  greatly  as  I  for  the 
game  we  are  playing  together,"  he  justified  him 
self  by  reminding  her. 

"  Together,  yes.  Let  me  play  also,  give  me  my 
part  in  the  game,  and  I  can  forget  my  instincts, 
but  leave  me  as  I  have  been,  these  many  months, 
and  I  will  promise  you  nothing.  Non,  merci !  " 

Steven  Randall  talked  the  problem  out  with 
Raleigh  later  in  the  day  and  failed.  Raleigh  saw 
only  obstacles  confronting  every  suggestion  he 
made,  even  the  proposition  to  go  along  himself, 
and  look  after  Stephanie  in  the  enforced  intervals 
of  absence  over  the  frontier  of  civilisation.  In  the 
end  it  was  Stephanie  who  won  her  own  cause. 
Finesse  and  coquetry  and  the  wiles  of  the  eternal 
feminine  turned  the  scale.  In  one  of  her  over 
whelming  moods  of  passion  he  could  not  resist  her. 
Her  unique  charm  asserted  itself  over  him  to  his 
undoing,  moved  him  beyond  calculation  or  control. 
She  was  actuated  not  by  love  of  him,  but  by  her 
instinct  to  arouse  his  need  of  her.  She  knew  the 
one  sure  way  to  disarm  him.  When  she  had  kept 
him  over  his  train  and  he  had  lost  his  first  chance, 


74  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

she  knew  that  she  had  won.  The  delay  really 
made  very  small  difference  if  he  was  to  sail  on 
Tuesday,  but  small  as  the  concession  was  to  his 
weakness  for  his  wife,  it  shamed  him  to  admit  he 
had  made  it.  Stephanie  was  radiant,  lit  by  an  in 
ward  fire.  Let  him  be  a  politician  in  a  thousand, 
and  a  diplomat  in  a  hundred  thousand,  her  blan 
dishments  unmanned  him  for  an  oblivious  moment, 
as  Helen  and  Cleopatra  and  all  the  nameless  in 
superable  host  have  prevailed  since  Venus  and 
Mars  began  their  unequal  struggle. 

He  left  her  next  morning  ashamed  of  his  tem 
porary  surrender,  yet  filled  to  the  lips  with  the 
sense  of  her.  And  she,  triumphant  in  her  power 
over  him,  knew  she  had  sold  herself  for  a  price, — 
and  that  price  escape.  The  irregular  blood  in  her 
veins  had  instructed  her  not  in  vain.  She  had 
given  all  that  she  had  for  her  life,  with  all  that 
life  meant  to  her,  and  what  man  or  woman  but 
will  do  the  same? 

A  message  from  Raleigh  stating  that  he  should 
be  unable  to  return  but  must  remain  where  he  was 
until  Monday,  keyed  her  nerves  to  the  breaking 
point.  She  waited,  conscious  of  every  hour,  try 
ing  to  throw  herself  into  her  packing,  and  to  si 
lence  the  growing  misgiving  of  her  heart.  In  spite 
of  her  actual  preparations  she  could  not  make  the 
truth  seem  true.  She  could  not  visualise  herself 
either  on  her  journey  down  to  town,  or  walking  up 


RIDING  ALONE  75 

the  gang-plank  at  Raleigh's  side,  nor  in  any  of  the 
ensuing  attitudes  of  the  voyage  or  their  arrival  on 
the  other  side.  On  Monday  afternoon,  when  she 
was  feverish  with  suspense,  a  second  message 
came;  not  with  the  news  of  his  arrival  to  fetch 
her,  or  the  directions  for  her  joining  him,  but  a 
mere  statement  of  his  own  sailing  the  next  morn 
ing.  He  had  added  one  curt  word, — "  unavoid 
able  "  as  if  in  explanation  of  his  strange  desertion. 

She  was  beside  herself  with  anger  as  she  read 
it.  His  brief  letter,  sent  back  by  pilot  boat  was 
hardly  anything  more  in  extenuation  of  his  offense. 
She  read  it  without  a  tear. 

"  Lache,"  she  whispered  between  her  white  lips. 
The  word  burnt  her  in  passing  them.  Steven  Ran 
dall  saw  her  take  it  and  remembered  men  he  had 
seen  take  a  bullet.  He  dared  not  speak  to  her. 
He  suffered  too  acutely  for  her  disappointment  in 
her  life,  and  in  Raleigh. 

"  And  I  —  am  married  to  this  man !  "  she  said, 
speaking  very  low.  "  I,  an  Austrian  by  birth  and 
title ! " 

The  regret  on  the  face  of  the  man  before  her 
checked  the  other  sentence  all  but  out, — "  I  am 
imprisoned  in  this  Puritan  fortress  without  hope 
of  succour !  —  While  he  is  free !  "  She  kept  it  back 
for  Grandee's  sake,  only  adding,  "  He  did  not  dare 
to  tell  me.  Coward !  " 

"  He  promised  to  come  back  for  me, —  and  here, 


76  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

read  it  —  he  promises  to  return  to  me  from  Eu 
rope  all  the  sooner,  for  sake  of  this  sailing  in  se 
cret.  He  even  dared  to  write  words  of  love  to 
me,  after  he  had  intentionally  deceived  me.  How 
I  despise  him !  "  There  was  a  luxury  of  contempt 
in  her  voice  that  never  once  lifted  from  its  low 
level. 

"  Be  just  to  him.  He  suffered  in  this  as  well 
as  you,  dear  Stephanie,"  Randall  said  tenderly. 
"  Raleigh  loves  you  more  than  anyone  in  the 
world.  I  am  sure  of  it.  I  was  with  him  when  he 
first  saw  you  and  swore  he  would  marry  you. 
He  threw  over  another  girl  to  do  it,  and  waited 
years,  until  you  had  become  sufficiently  a  woman." 

"  What  sort  of  a  person  was  that  other  woman  ?  " 

"  Christine's  sort.  Christine  herself  if  you  like. 
I  supposed  Raleigh  had  told  you." 

"  What  an  idiot  he  was!  "  she  exclaimed.  "  She 
was  made  expressively  to  his  own  order !  " 

"  He  fell  in  love  with  you.  Nothing  else  mat 
tered  to  him  after  that,"  Grandee  persisted. 

"  He  was  afraid  to  tell  me, —  afraid  of  a  woman ! 
Miserable ! "  she  reiterated,  clenching  her  small 
hands. 

"  You  must  not  forget  all  his  splendid  traits  be 
cause  he  has  failed  you  in  one  respect,"  he  urged. 

"  I  have  only  contempt  for  him  now.  If  he  had 
abused  me  or  abandoned  me,  I  could  have  forgiven 
it  or  understood  it,  par  example, —  the  training  of 


RIDING  ALONE  77 

a  woman  abroad  would  assist  me  to  understand, 
but  to  be  a  coward ! "  She  shrugged.  She  felt 
herself  suddenly  lowered  with  him,  as  his  property, 
to  an  abyss  of  degradation  to  which  her  father, 
the  spy,  had  never  plunged  her. 

"  He  is  deeply  in  love  with  you,  dear,"  poor 
Grandee  maintained.  It  was  the  best  he  could 
think  of  to  offer  her.  "  I  have  a  letter  from  him 
too,  full  of  concern  for  your  happiness  here,  and 
going  into  detail  of  his  instructions  more  fully. 
He  has  ordered  you  a  consolation  ring,  that  ought 
to  be  sent  up  to-morrow.  His  every  thought  is 
for  you.  He  is  absolutely  in  love  with  you  " — 

"  He  is  in  love  with  himself.  Undoubtedly  he 
admires  his  devotion  in  this  last  act,  most  pro 
foundly  !  "  Steven  Randall  winced  under  her  in 
sight.  He  did  not  altogether  admire  his  brilliant 
nephew  or  his  increasing  fame,  at  the  moment. 

"  He  promised  " —  was  all  she  would  say.  She 
continued  unrelenting.  "  It  is  one  thing  to  de 
ceive  an  empire  in  diplomacy,  and  another  to  de 
ceive  a  woman  who  trusts  you.  It  was  an  affair 
of  honor  between  us."  How  could  Grandee  hope 
to  extenuate  the  breach  of  good  faith,  which  he  so 
perfectly  saw  and  condemned? 

"  Raleigh  may  have  considered  yours  a  diplo 
matic  pledge  only, —  open  to  ratification  by  treaty," 
he  ventured  as  a  last  suggestion. 

"  It  is  entirely  another  thing  to  cheat  an  empire 


78  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

in  diplomacy,  when  your  opponents  are  playing  the 
same  game,  with  the  cards  spread  openly  between 
you.  But  it  is  like  cheating  at  cards  privately  to 
deceive  a  woman  in  good  faith.  Possibly  a  de 
mocracy  has  no  code  like  our  noblesse  oblige  of 
Europe,"  she  concluded  shrewdly.  And  with  this 
he  quit  the  argument,  for  he  knew  that  she  was 
right.  And  it  is  only  a  woman  who  takes  much 
satisfaction  in  arguing  a  point  when  she  knows  she 
is  worsted,  and  in  the  wrong,  for  the  sheer  pleasure 
of  testing  her  own  eloquence.  From  that  day 
Stephanie  never  spoke  of  her  husband  if  it  was 
avoidable.  He  had  placed  her  in  Grandee's  care 
by  virtue  of  several  closely  written  pages  of  expla 
nation  and  expansion  of  his  own  plans.  He  trusted 
his  uncle  to  keep  her  from  fretting  too  much  over 
the  inevitable,  expressed  his  regret  at  taking 
French-leave  of  them,  thanked  him  in  advance  for 
.all  his  hospitality  and  protection,  and  then  passed 
eagerly  to  phases  of  the  Eastern  situation,  and  the 
part  in  it  he  was  cast  to  play.  Everything  was 
taken  easily  for  granted,  and  externally  all  went 
on  as  before.  To  Stephanie  nothing  brought  re 
lief  for  white  nights  and  restless  days,  until  the 
Imitation  of  the  sacred  A  Kempis  came  to  her  res 
cue,  with  its  overwhelming  balm  for  the  wounded, 
that  in  her  convent  experience  she  would  have  be 
lieved  inconceivable. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   MESSENGER  OF  BELGRADE 

WHILE  the  heat  crept  higher  and  higher 
at  Sky  High,  and  every  day  burned  a 
deeper  coat  of  brown  on  grass  beyond 
the  lawns  where  Joel  Underwood  played  his  hose 
in  the  shadow,  and  snarled  at  the  stupidity  of 
those  who  watered  in  the  sun, — "  pouring  tea 
kettles  on  their  green," — Raleigh  Payne  was  each 
day  nearer  a  new  opportunity  for  the  aggrandise 
ment  of  his  own  reputation.  He  had  hated  to 
leave  Stephanie.  But  the  haste  of  his  bidding  was 
an  exigence  in  itself  and  the  thought  of  leaving  her 
at  Buda  Pesth  or  even  Vienna  not  to  be  consid 
ered.  He  had  fled  the  charm  he  feared  might 
swerve  him  from  his  course,  somewhat  sobered  by 
the  astonishing  power  she  had  over  him,  and  more 
deeply  in  love  than  he  had  time  to  realise.  There 
was  bound  to  be  much  in  the  life  he  had  chosen, 
not  as  he  might  have  preferred  it.  He  accepted 
this,  so  must  Stephanie,  having  accepted  him.  He 
dismissed  compunction  from  his  regret  and  further 
consideration  accordingly. 

His  striking  figure,  and  handsome  face,  with  its 
open  offer  of  friendship  to  any  who  might  care 

79 


80  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

for  it,  made  him  easily  a  social  mark  upon  the 
voyage,  though  he  saved  many  hours  of  each 
day  for  the  books  and  pamphlets  he  had  brought 
with  him,  hastily  snatched  up  on  leaving  to  supple 
ment  his  own  intuition  and  information  concern 
ing  the  situation  he  was  going  out  to  meet.  And 
though  nothing  distinguished  him  on  deck  from 
any  summer  pleasure-seeker,  he  talked  late  at  night 
in  the  empty  smoking  room  with  a  couple  of  men 
whose  knowledge  of  the  Danube  territories  far  ex 
ceeded  his  own, —  one  of  them  a  merchant  from 
Moscow,  and  the  other  a  Hungarian  musician  in 
the  second  cabin.  All  of  which  was  without  a 
breath  as  to  his  own  destination,  of  course.  No 
one  but  the  young  German  Count  wore  shoes  so 
immaculately  white,  or  yachting  costume  more 
carelessly  correct.  There  was  no  hint  of  business, 
none  of  the  nervous  alertness  or  forced  indiffer 
ence  supposed  to  characterise  the  war  correspond 
ent,  in  the  easy  leisure  of  this  idler.  He  was  on 
terms  of  cordiality  with  the  Captain  and  crew  from 
previous  voyages,  and  his  daily  round  of  visits  paid 
beside  the  steamer  chairs  of  his  old  and  new  ac 
quaintance  had  the  charm  of  a  man  of  society,  who 
is  happy  to  pass  his  own  time  by  killing  yours  for 
you, —  without  committing  himself  to  any  particu 
lar  views  of  life,  or  localised  reminiscence,  in 
volving  personalities.  He  always  seemed  to  know 
when  he  had  made  a  pretty  girl  sufficiently  re- 


marked  by  his  little  attentions,  and  when  to  rise 
regretfully  to  give  his  place  to  a  Second  Officer 
enviously  near  and  obviously  drawn  by  his  compe 
tition.  The  mothers  smiled  on  him,  and  recounted 
scandal  to  him ;  scandal  so  old  as  to  have  been 
trustworthily  proven  in  the  courts,  or  so  new  as 
to  be  not  improbable  however  surprising.  It  was 
likely  to  be  useful  later  to  this  man  who  never  for 
got  a  relation  between  any  two  human  beings, 
since  it  might  establish  a  missing  motive,  identity 
or  connection.  Tall  and  commanding  in  bearing, 
with  the  smooth  shaven  jaw  that  bespoke  force 
of  will,  and  grey  eyes  that  were  sometimes  blue 
and  transparent  as  those  of  a  child,  Raleigh  with 
his  high  cheek  bones  and  rather  florid  colouring, 
looked  more  like  the  portrait  of  his  Virginia  great 
grandfather  than  like  himself.  His  hair  was  chest 
nut,  but  so  dark  that  he  had  escaped  the  usual 
jibes  at  the  temper  popularly  associated  with  red. 
When  he  was  angry  his  mouth  had  an  ugly  way 
of  closing  that  accompanied  a  drawing  of  heavy 
eyebrows  and  knitting  of  brow,  making  him  at 
once  ten  years  older  than  he  was.  At  such  times 
the  grey  eyes  so  full  of  wit,  and  sarcasm  that 
caused  others  to  shrink,  could  narrow  to  a  hateful 
expression  of  positive  aversion.  It  was  said  by 
those  who  disliked  him,  or  opposed  him  and  in 
curred  his  dislike,  that  he  never  stumbled  over  his 
principles  in  making  for  his  own  ends.  But  one 


82  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

felt,  at  sight  of  him,  that  his  breeding  would  save 
him  from  any  outward  failure  in  morals  or  fine 
taste.  He  might  do  a  thing  cunning  to  actual 
untruth,  but  he  would  never  commit  a  blunder  due 
to  sins  of  the  flesh,  or  be  caught  in  a  discredit  to 
his  Southern  honour.  It  would  be  done  in  a 
corner,  if  it  had  to  be  done.  He  would  never  sin 
openly,  from  principle  or  passion.  Impulse  was 
no  vice  of  his.  Other  men  found  his  sympathies 
hard  to  enlist  but  his  interest  unflagging.  The  pa 
tience,  which  was  really  the  genius  of  his  career, 
endured  under  the  minor  strain  of  social  boredom 
as  magnificently  as  his  dogged  waiting  for  a  gov 
ernment  to  fall,  or  the  signing  of  a  ticklish  treaty. 
He  played  bridge  as  astutely  with  Mrs.  Truxton- 
Coming  of  Boston,  who  was  at  loss  for  an  exclu 
sive  fourth  at  the  table  in  her  cabin  de  luxe  every 
afternoon,  as  he  studied  his  map  of  Turkey  and 
Macedonia.  His  little  red  dots  travelling  down  the 
Danube  from  Buda  to  Belgrade,  and  then  off  side 
ways  on  crowding  trails  of  their  own,  looked  now 
like  nothing  but  processions  of  Albanian  bandits, 
winding  their  way  over  those  haggard  hills  at  night 
fall.  As  far  as  Buda  the  trip  was  entirely  as  he 
had  foreseen.  There  he  expected  to  find  cables. 
But  there  was  nothing  awaiting  him  at  the  Hun 
garian  Palace  hotel  save  a  word  from  Steven  Ran 
dall,  code  of  course,  signifying  "  all  well "  and 
"  good  luck  to  the  enterprise."  On  reading  it  he 


THE  MESSENGER  OF  BELGRADE      83 

felt  again  his  perfidy  to  Stephanie,  with  disagree 
able  vividness.  He  dismissed  its  effect  upon  him, 
by  promising  himself  to  go  back  via  Paris  and  pick 
up  such  finery  as  would  make  everything  all  right : 
—  some  new  frocks,  jewelry  of  course.  He  knew 
her  taste  and  had  often  helped  her  own  selection. 
His  eagerness  to  be  at  work  received  a  serious 
check  at  Belgrade.  Here  he  found  a  cable  from 
headquarters  bidding  him  await  letters  of  instruc 
tion. 

By  quickest  calculation  it  meant  ten  days,  yet  if 
he  took  advantage  of  that  probability  to  go  off  at 
some  tangent  of  his  own,  a  contrary  cable  might 
come  and  miss  him.  A  delay  in  execution  was 
not  to  be  thought  of.  So  down  he  sat,  like  nothing 
but  a  cat  by  a  hole  where  a  fascinating  tail  has 
disappeared;  inactive  but  incapable  of  diversion. 
Just  as  across  the  river  the  Austrian  fortress 
watched  Belgrade  with  permanent  suspicion.  The 
hotel  was  none  too  clean  and  the  kitchen  none  too 
palatable.  He  waited,  marking  time  as  best  he 
could,  and  the  heat  made  even  the  game  of  soli 
taire  too  much  of  an  effort,  though  he  cheated  to 
make  brilliant  runs  that  ought  to  have  kept  him 
awake.  Through  a  newspaper  man,  just  en  route 
from  Sophia  to  Caracas  to  cover  the  French-Afri 
can  situation,  he  got  a  permit  to  go  through  the 
palace  of  the  luckless  Draga  and  her  infatuated 
King.  He  even  amused  himself  by  putting  his 


84  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

fingers  on  actual  faded  blood  spots  and  conjectur 
ing  the  deadly  onslaught  up  the  dark  staircase  to 
the  royal  chamber, —  until  his  own  blood  refused 
to  congeal  satisfactorily,  and  his  spinal  column  no 
longer  curdled  over  the  amassing  of  ghastly  hor 
rors  told  off  by  the  guide,  gladly  exploiting  his 
country's  shame  for  a  handful  of  cheap  coin. 
Aside  from  the  European  newspapers  there  was, 
after  the  fourth  day,  no  external  resource  left  him 
but  to  talk  with  the  people  about  their  recent  his 
tory  and  future  hopes  of  freedom.  Happily  the 
Concierge  spoke  German,  and  was  delighted  to  re 
peat  the  scandals  he  had  overheard.  He  repeated 
the  common  talk  of  the  town,  how  Draga  and  her 
sisters  had  lived  together  in  questionable  luxury, 
before  she  had  inveigled  the  boy  into  her  toils ;  be 
ing  herself  an  old  coquette  with  a  reputation  no 
lie  could  whitewash,  though  others  pronounced  her 
a  virtuous  woman,  ruined  by  her  own  ambitions 
and  hard  fate.  He  enlarged  upon  her  extrava 
gance,  which  had  emptied  the  treasuries  of  all  Ser- 
via,  her  toilets  being  the  talk  of  the  Balkans.  He 
explained  how  she  had  led  the  poor  infatuated  boy 
monarch  by  the  nose,  until  the  sight  of  the  stupid 
husband  and  the  designing  wife,  stirred  her  coun 
sellors  to  rise  and  protect  him, —  and  how  those 
he  trusted- most  betrayed  him  at  last,  through  ha 
tred  of  the  alien  woman  who  had  undone  him  in 
their  eyes,  and  left  him  no  longer  a  ruler  fit  to 


THE  MESSENGER  OF  BELGRADE      85 

reign  but  a  besotted  fool,  squandering  his  king 
dom  for  lust  of  a  woman  openly  unfaithful  to  him 
or  to  them.  There  were  all  sides  of  the  murder 
to  hear,  from  all  sorts  of  sources.  The  air  was 
full  of  cries.  Revolutionists  shrieked  oppression, 
sympathisers  of  assassination  applauded.  Law  and 
order,  backed  by  Europe  and  the  balance  of  power, 
spoke  in  would-be  authoritative  tones,  while  Russia 
as  firmly  as  lay  in  her  power  holding  the  throne  for 
Peter  Georgevitch,  her  step-son,  acted  as  inter 
mediary  pro  tern. 

It  was  not  much  to  the  point,  as  far  as  Raleigh's 
affairs  were  concerned.  His  way  lay  southward 
toward  Constantinople.  Bulgaria  was  more  on  his 
cards  than  Servia.  He  listened  because  he  had 
nothing  else  to  do,  but  he  chafed  desperately,  when, 
on  the  ninth  day  after  his  arrival,  no  instructions 
had  appeared.  The  French  war  correspondent  had 
told  many  marvellous  tales  and  gone.  He  was  left 
to  the  isolation  of  the  natives,  who  though  over 
paid  and  promptly,  had  begun  to  look  curiously 
and  wag  idle  tongues  over  his  delay.  This  was  re 
flected  in  the  manner  of  those  about  him  until  it 
became  annoying.  Twice  the  manager  of  the  ho 
tel  had  personally  enquired  of  him  his  proposed 
route.  If  he  came  to  them  from  the  East,  or  from 
Europe?  If  his  health  was  entirely  satisfactory? 

Raleigh  replied  that  it  was,  with  thanks  for  the 
courtesy,  and  wondered  if  they  were  much  in  the 


86  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

habit  of  poisoning  people,  in  their  line  of  trade. 
He  was  not  nervous,  but  he  was  sick  of  the  situ 
ation  beyond  all  endurance.  He  was  alone, —  no, 
let  that  be  unsaid,  for  already  there  sat  down  with 
him  at  table,  and  strolled  with  him  through  the 
bazar,  and  never  left  him,  an  unseen  figure,  always 
veiled,  always  in  disguise, —  Suspicion.  The  offi 
cials  in  the  streets  saw  the  ghost,  so  did  the  serv 
ants  indoors,  who  stopped  speaking  when  he  en 
tered,  to  stare  after  him.  But  though  the  breath  of 
the  spectre  sometimes  crossed  his  eyes,  it  was  gone 
as  it  came,  and  he  alone  knew  not  that  he  was 
haunted. 

He  could  not  always  be  writing  letters  or  study 
ing  pamphlets.  It  was  too  hot  to  prowl  much  in 
the  sun,  and  not  safe  at  nightfall  for  an  unknown 
stranger.  He  was  too  keen  on  his  mission  to  lose 
himself  in  literary  work,  as  he  surely  could  have 
under  saner  circumstances.  At  last  he  had  un 
broken  time  at  his  disposal,  but  he  was  unable  to 
think  of  anything  he  cared  to  say.  In  short,  he 
knew  he  was  waiting.  "  Waiting  like  a  house 
a'fire,"  he  wrote  Steven  Randall.  Waiting,  so  hard 
he  could  do  nothing  else  but  fume!  In  vain  he 
tried  his  hand  on  the  lyrics  he  contributed  at  in 
tervals  to  the  best  magazines.  They  at  least  proved 
his  all-round  talent  and  emphasised  him  as  a  man  of 
varied  gifts,  if  he  had  not  won  the  recognition  he 
wanted.  He  was  established  as  a  poet  to  be  ac- 


THE  MESSENGER  OF  BELGRADE      87 

cepted.  His  friends  spoke  to  him  of  this  or  that 
poem  they  had  happened  to  see,  usually  forgetting 
if  it  was  a  Sapphic  or  a  sonnet,  and  confusing 
which  periodical  had  it,  or  the  title  with  one  by 
somebody  else  in  the  same  number.  He  was  rather 
distant  now,  when  approached  about  his  one 
volume  of  Lyrics,  published  just  before  his  mar 
riage.  He  could  not  bear  to  be  mediocre  in  any 
thing.  He  loved  literature  as  men  often  love  the 
buried  part  of  themselves.  And  the  guarded  com 
mendation  of  those  who  knew  best,  together  with 
the  ill-advised  congratulations  of  those  who  knew 
not  at  all,  were  more  trying  to  his  self-esteem  than 
the  tepid  reviews  of  the  press  at  large.  Several 
good  publications  gave  him  respectful  notices,  dis 
criminatingly  recalling  to  their  public  his  distin 
guished  diplomatic  career.  Raleigh  had  made  up 
his  mind  that  the  next  volume  should  be  an  ad 
vance  so  startling,  that  the  poet  and  diplomat  should 
henceforth  be  reckoned  side  by  side.  And  behold, 
here  was  his  chance  for  all  sorts  of  local  colour, 
and  he  could  not  get  into  the  rythmic  swing  or 
catch  the  verbal  tune  of  savagery  all  about  him. 
He  could  not  think  of  a  rhyme  for  wheelbarrow, — 
unless  it  was  to-morrow ! 

On  the  night  of  the  tenth  day  he  overheard  pro 
tracted  conversation  outside  his  door.  It  seemed 
to  be  the  Manager  and  Concierge  slightly  at  odds. 
He  could  not  understand  the  nature  of  their  curses 


88  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

or  the  drift  of  their  difference.  But  it  was  explicit 
in  intimation  that  one  insisted,  and  the  other  op 
posed.  Argument  followed,  then  scorn,  then  ap 
peal.  While  he  was  sitting,  distracted  from  his 
poetical  efforts  by  their  voices,  there  came  a  sharp 
knocking  at  his  own  door.  On  opening  it,  there 
stood  before  him  as  he  had  surmised,  the  Manager 
and  the  Concierge.  It  was  the  Manager  who 
spoke. 

"  If  you  please,  Monsieur  is  of  the  English  race? 
And  has  recently  come  from  Vienna.  Yes?  Not 
the  infected  interior  ?  "  he  asked,  civilly  enough. 

"Yes,  absolutely.  Why?"  Raleigh  said,  with 
dislike  of  the  impertinence,  if  it  proved  one. 

"  Very  good !  And  M'sieur  has  the  intention  to 
proceed  at  once?  The  affair  of  M'sieur  being  un 
happily  so  urgent  in  its  nature  we  may  not  hope  to 
keep  him  with  us  longer?  Yes?"  he  repeated,  re 
gardless  of  the  counter-question. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Raleigh  and  again,  "  Why  ?  " 

"  The  nature  of  the  affair  of  M'sieur  requires  it 
of  him  to  be  prudent, —  absolutely  sage,"  said  the 
Manager.  This  time  it  was  an  assertion  made 
with  authority,  almost  threatening. 

"  Much  as  we  should  regret  to  hurry  M'sieur  " 
—  he  began,  when  the  Concierge  stepped  into  the 
room. 

"  There  is  a  man  dying,  in  that  chamber,"  he 
said  in  German.  "  He  is  mad  to  have  a  word  with 


THE  MESSENGER  OF  BELGRADE      89 

the  English-speaking  gentleman.  He  heard  your 
voice  speaking  with  me  in  the  corridor,  and  begs 
of  the  respectfully  honoured  Highly-born  to  enter 
with  me  his  apartment,  if  for  only  an  eye-wink." 

"  Do  not  listen !  Do  not  go,"  warned  the  Man 
ager  at  once,  comprehending  as  if  by  intuition. 

"  Is  it  not  enough  for  the  carrion  to  feed  on 
one  dead  body  in  this  house?  One  sees  that 
M'sieur  must  not  be  allowed  to  expose  himself. 
M'sieur  is  of  so  distinguished  a  reputation!  It 
makes  less  of  inquiry  afterward  for  all.  It 
is  better,  certainly,  if  M'sieur  were  to  leave  us 
quietly  to-morrow  morning,  or  even,  if  his  affairs 
are  more  important,  to-night, —  to  our  own  natural 
regret." 

"  What  is  the  sick  man's  name  ?  "  Raleigh  asked 
curtly. 

"  As  if  one  could  say ! "  scoffed  the  Manager. 

"What  is  his  nationality,  then?" 

"  In  the  register  he  calls  himself  Denbeigh. 
One  doubts  if  a  priest  assisted  at  that  christening! 
He  is  one  of  a  thousand  denationalised  robbers 
that  pass  and  re-pass  ever  between  Belgrade  and 
the  East,  leaving  trouble  behind.  Sophia,  Bul 
garia,  every  metre  of  the  way  to  Plevna,  is  full  of 
spies,  M'sieur.  Russian,  Austrian,  Turkish,  Hun 
garian,  even  German  and  English.  No  man  is  ac 
cording  to  his  own  statement  of  himself.  No  man 
shows  his  passport  unless  he  is  forced  to  do  it  to 


90  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

save  his  skin.  No  man  but  trembles  when  another 
suddenly  enters  at  the  door  of  the  cafe.  They 
know  who  they  are,  and  often  who  the  others  are 
they  fear,  but  we  do  not,  we  who  become  respon 
sible  for  them  to  the  police !  " 

"  Well,  to  begin  with,  my  name  is  straight.  I 
am  nothing  but  Raleigh  Payne,  taking  a  journey 
into  the  East  and  waiting  for  my  mail  from 
America."  He  smiled  his  disarming  ingenuous 
smile,  at  that,  which  would  have  reassured  any  one 
west  of  Asia.  "  I  am  not  plotting  for  Peter's 
Crown  or  poisoning  myself  to  give  your  hotel  a 
bad  name,"  he  added,  "  and  if  that  poor  chap 
wants  to  see  a  man  from  home,  I  am  not  going  to 
be  put  out  until  I  have  seen  him,  and  that  the 
sooner  the  better." 

"  Even  so !  "  the  Concierge  broke  in,  "  Raleigh 
Payne,  Raleigh  Payne!  I  must  see  him.  Allah 
sent  for  him  of  all  others.  He  repeated  it  with  an 
intelligence.  But  I  was  afraid  to  bring  trouble  by 
doing  his  commission  to  the  Highly-born,  without 
the  consent  of  the  Manager." 

"  Knew  my  name,  did  he  ?  What  was  his  mes 
sage,  if  you  can  remember?" 

"  Say  to  Raleigh  Payne,  a  gentleman  unable  to 
call  upon  him,  begs  the  honour  of  a  visit-  He  is 
in  haste,  as  he  is  under  orders  and  the  Black  Gen 
eral  cannot  wait  for  him  much  longer  " — 

But   already    Raleigh    was    down   the    hall   and 


THE  MESSENGER  OF  BELGRADE      91 

opening  the  door  of  the  dying  stranger.  "  News 
paper  man,  I  bet  a  hat !  "  he  said  to  himself,  "  dy 
ing  game  in  this  hole,  with  his  pockets  burning 
with  inside  information  probably.  But  oh  the  di 
vine  luck  of  it  for  me !  " 

On  the  narrow  bed  before  him  lay  a  slight 
figure,  round  which  the  sheet  clung  pathetically, 
after  constant  tossing  from  side  to  side  for  the  re 
pose  that  would  not  be  found.  The  face  that 
turned  at  the  opening  of  the  door  was  haggard 
but  very  winning,  unkempt  as  it  was  from  illness 
and  helplessness  and  utter  lack  of  care. 

"  Sorry  to  trouble  you,  Mr.  Payne,  and  excuse 
my  not  rising  please,"  he  said,  with  a  pitiful  at 
tempt  at  bravado.  "  I  am  about  at  the  end,  you 
see." 

"  Knocked  yourself  out  a  bit  ?  "  Raleigh  replied, 
taking  the  blistering  hot  hand  in  his  own  cool  one. 

"  Yes,  fever,  but  the  fire  is  about  out  now.  I 
had  a  silly  notion  to  see  a  real  face  and  of  course 
I  knew  your  name."  Raleigh  bowed  his  acknowl 
edgments  and  then  scanned  the  sufferer's  features. 
They  baffled  him,  so  he  went  on  with  the  same 
lightness  of  touch  — 

"  Not  much  beautiful  blue  Danube  about  this 
for  either  of  us,  I  should  judge !  " 

"  Rather  not ! "  cried  the  sick  man  with  an  Eng 
lish  accent.  "  If  I  had  held  out  till  I  got  up  to 
Buda  I  might  have  had  a  chance,  but  I  am  ecrase, 


92  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

fini !  and  my  mind  winds  like  the  steps  to  the  Saint 
Mathais  kirche  from  the  effort  of  imagining  my 
self  back  in  sight  of  that  cool  white  'castle  set  in 
its  shade  trees  that  keep  the  light  out,  or  strolling 
along  the  Franz  Joseph  Quai,  again !  " 

The  two  men  looked  at  each  other. 

"Finished  what  you  went  out  to  do?"  Raleigh 
asked  without  preamble. 

"  Yes,  and  myself  too.  It's  a  mean  quarter, 
out  there,"  he  added  quickly.  "  No  one  plays  by 
the  rule  of  any  game  but  his  own." 

"  It  is  political  outlawery,"  Raleigh  assented. 

"  The  peninsula  is  full  of  desperate  men  on  queer 
errands,  Russia  in  the  lead,"  admitted  the  stranger. 

"  She  is  always  true  to  her  first  love,  the  Golden 
Horn." 

"  The  Black  Sea  provinces  are  her  concern  in 
the  present  mix-up.  Every  road  leads  to  tide 
water  with  her.  The  Bosphorus  is  her  road 
out—" 

Again  they  searched  each  other's  faces  for 
recognition  or  for  assurance,  then  the  sick  man 
asked  in  turn,  "  What  are  you  out  after  ?  " 

"  Protection  of  our  Americanised  Christians, 
mainly."  His  questioner  smiled  vaguely.  "  They 
are  all  mad  for  dominion.  Creed  does  not  stand 
in  the  way.  That  is  only  a  government  bluff  of 
course." 

"  I   don't  know   about  that.     When   we  see  the 


THE  MESSENGER  OF  BELGRADE      93 

desire  of  liberty  springing  up  like  an  innocent 
flower  to  be  crushed  by  the  heel  of  Turkish  armies, 
it  appeals  to  the  free-born  American — " 

"  Or  the  rapacity  of  the  powers.  They  are  all 
in  it,"  declared  the  other.  "  And  under  all  their 
whining  about  the  Jew  and  the  Christian,  they  care 
for  nothing  but  their  own  aggrandisement.  Rus 
sia  dreams  of  tide-water,  no  matter  how  fast  asleep 
she  seems.  Hungary  is  a  despot  by  nature.  Aus 
tria  is  jealous  for  the  rights  of  Herzegovina  and 
Bosnia.  If  America  is  disinterested,  or  in  the 
game  for  religion's  sake,  she  is  the  hottest  fanatic 
and  the  only  Samaritan  on  the  peninsula  to-day ! " 
They  were  both  temporising.  Both  knew  it  per 
fectly.  Neither  was  saying  anything  not  already 
known  to  the  other. 

"What  is  the  outcome  to  be,  do  you  think?" 
Raleigh  asked,  trying  to  decide  if  this  fever- 
stricken  chap  was  English  or  mongrel, —  a  news 
paper  man  or  in  some  government's  secret  service. 

"  One  hears  everything  predicted,"  was  the  eva 
sive  reply. 

"  There  are  rumours  of  England  being  called  in  " 
—  ventured  Raleigh,  trying  him  with  a  bit  of  real 
bait, —  a  notion  of  his  own. 

"  England  could  do  it !  "  exclaimed  the  sick  man 
with  admiration,  and  would  have  said  more  but 
that  a  sudden  weakness  overcame  him  and  he 
dropped  flat  on  his  mattress,  with  the  face  of  a 


94 

drowning  man.  When  the  seizure  had  passed  a 
little,  after  a  stiff  stimulant  by  hypodermic,  he 
began  to  speak  rapidly  as  if  in  a  hurry  to  have 
done. 

"  Never  mind  all  that  please,  we  both  know  our 
Balkans,  I  dare  say.  Raleigh  Payne  has  a  repu 
tation  for  knowing  the  job  he  undertakes, —  the 
English  War  office  so  understand  it  anyway, —  and 
I  have  some  trifling  notion  of  it  too.  But  that  is 
not  why  I  asked  your  humanity  in  coming  in  here 
to-night.  It  is  just  this.  I  am  going  to  die  here, 
—  as  soon  as  I  can, —  since  it  is  no  use  delaying, 
and  but  for  your  turning  up,  there  is  no  one  here 
who  knows  me,  or  would  take  the  trouble  to  pick 
me  up  and  ship  me  to  any  other  address.  There 
is  money  enough  and  an  unused  letter  of  credit 
beside,  but  these  dogs  will  never  use  it  for  the 
peace  of  my  soul,  not  they!  They  are  hurrying 
me  already.  It  is  a  nasty  bore  I  know,  but  we  are 
all  sent  to  bed  in  the  dark  alone  some  time,  and 
I  am  trusting  your  being  so  grateful  Allah  has 
spared  you  this  luck  of  mine,  that  you  will  not  re 
fuse  me." 

"  There  can  be  no  question  of  that,"  Raleigh 
said  solemnly.  "  But  are  you  sure  it  is  hopeless 
with  a  man  standing  by  to  help  ?  " 

"  Absolutely.  And  I  am  not  too  much  cut  up 
over  it  either,  to  say  the  truth.  I  did  my  errand 
and  received  my  decoration  and  double  pay.  I 


THE  MESSENGER  OF  BELGRADE      95 

have  no  one  to  fret  about  me  and  no  woman  now 
to  put  a  bow  in  her  hair  to  welcome  what  was 
Nicolai  home  again  feet  first !  " 

"  There  was  one,  then  ?  "  the  question  was  very 
gently  put. 

"  I  loved  a  girl  once,  but  she  was  not  for  me. 
Her  guardians  notified  her  government  which,  on 
information,  took  my  suit  in  hand  and  suppressed 
me,  forcing  me  into  one  infected  zone  after  an 
other,  with  pledges  that  were  broken  before  they 
were  offered.  There  is  always  a  woman  behind 
the  men  who  do  stunts  like  mine.  There  is  noth 
ing  else  bad  enough  or  good  enough,  heaven  to 
win  and  hell  to  lose!  so  to  speak." 

"What  became  of  this  one?" 

"  Married." 

Raleigh  drew  his  eyebrows  together  angrily. 

"  That  is  not  by  way  of  saying  she  loved,"  sug 
gested  the  man  on  the  bed.  "  She  was  mine  heart 
and  soul,  but  you  know  what  the  damnable  double 
dealing  of  artificial  marriage  contracts  and  court 
tradition  are,  and  lead  a  woman  into?  Netted  like 
birds,  all  of  them!  Then,  Hoch  Adultere!  Or  a 
barren  life  without  the  love  women  are  created 
for!" 

"  But  Raleigh  was  carefully  setting  his  memory 
at  work  on  the  name  Nicolai,  and  piecing  together 
the  disconnected  fragments  of  a  puzzle  that  he  was 
sure  ought  to  make  a  picture, —  a  man's  face  and 


96  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

reputation.  There  was  satisfaction  on  his  relax 
ing  lips  now  as  he  leaned  eagerly  toward  the 
stranger — 

"  Nicolai,  you  said  ?  And  surely  Nicholas  Heath- 
leagh!  You  see  I  know  you  even  better  than  you 
knew  me." 

"  Guilty,"  and  their  hands  gripped  in  token  of 
mutual  dangers  shared. 

"  My  dear  boy,  I  have  heard  about  it  and  you 
have  covered  yourself  with  glory.  I  am  proud  to 
have  the  chance  to  take  your  hand  and  boast  of 
it  afterward, —  and  prouder  still  to  serve  you." 

The  eyes  of  Heathleagh  glowed  dangerously. 
"  I  am  on  the  register  '  in  cog./  "  he  cautioned  low 
ering  his  voice.  "  I  could  not  resist  the  desire  to 
see  you  and  have  it  out  before  I  went  along." 

"  I  should  say  not !  "  Raleigh  sat  down  on  the 
edge  of  the  bed.  "  Tell  me  everything.  I  am  on 
the  way  out  there  now." 

"Then  take  my  advice  and  go  back!"  Heath 
leagh  warned  gravely.  "  It  is  not  worth  it  to  you. 
You  serve  a  democracy.  What  rules  to-day  may 
crumble  to-morrow.  Patriotism  will,  too  probably, 
be  your  only  reward.  It  is  too  much  hell  to  face 
out  there  now,  except  for  an  Empire  entrenched  in 
one  man  power, —  that  never  sleeps  or  fails  to 
reward  what  has  served  successfully, —  not  for  that 
service,  but  because  it  may  serve  again !  Are  you 
married  ?  " 


THE  MESSENGER  OF  BELGRADE   97 

Raleigh  nodded  an  affirmative. 

"In  love?" 

"  With  nothing  so  much  as  my  wife  but  my  pro 
fession." 

"  Then  go  back  before  you  are  where  I  am.  Lis 
ten,  I  have  no  time  to  lose,"  and  he  plunged  into 
his  story  he  had  feared  must  die  with  him  unheard 
from  his  own  lips  or  only  garbled  by  men  who  half 
knew  the  truth.  "  You  have  been  puzzled,  like  all 
the  rest,  by  my  name.  My  mother  was  Russian, 
my  father  English,  who,  while  temporarily  disaf 
fected  with  his  government  party,  deeply  involved 
himself  in  the  affairs  of  his  Majesty  the  Tsar.  He 
knew  how  to  be  useful  to  both  governments  in 
turn  —  no  need  to  enlarge,  comment  unnecessary, — 
and  the  imperial  favor  was  unfailing.  I  will  skip 
all  that.  It  happened  that  when  I  came  along,  he 
was  already  dead,  and  my  mother  preferred  to  re 
turn  to  her  own  country.  So  I  was  bred  up  like 
a  subject,  except  for  a  few  years  in  England  to 
acquire  the  language  and  politics  of  my  father's 
race.  I  came  out  of  it  a  sort  of  hybrid  soldier 
of  fortune,  equipped  for  diplomacy,  and  keen  for 
all  sorts  and  shades  of  performances  that  required 
English  phlegm  and  the  red  blood  of  Holy  Russia. 
My  double  qualifications  were  quickly  appreciated. 
My  first  errand  for  His  Majesty  was  one  of  secret 
information  calling  for  tact,  imagination  and  dar 
ing.  The  result  was  satisfactory  and  my  future  as- 


98  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

sured,  but  on  a  basis  of  the  unrecognised  and  ir 
regular,  as  I  at  the  time  failed  utterly  to  compre 
hend.  I  never  held  an  openly  authorised  post, 
military  or  diplomatic.  I  was  ostensibly  attached 
to  the  leading  news  journal  of  Petersburg.  Under 
this  cover  I  reaped  a  brilliant  harvest  of  success 
far  and  wide,  and  was  too  much  intoxicated  by  my 
personal  importance  to  care  for  the  real  degrada 
tion  from  an  established  position.  I  have  been 
everywhere,  seen  everything  inside  and  out,  dis 
guised  as  every  sort  of  native,  speaking  every  sort 
of  language,  yet  to  the  world  I  am  only  a  lucky 
correspondent,  who  always  falls  on  his  feet  when 
there  is  a  fray  to  report.  I  might  have  written 
some  real  copy  out  it  all,  if  I  had  not  this  engage 
ment  with  Charon  obtruding  itself  at  my  elbow! 
After  the  woman  I  spoke  of  turned  her  back  on 
me,  I  naturally  went  in  deeper.  Nothing  was  des 
perate  enough  for  me  then.  It  suited  the  War 
Office  and  nothing  made  any  difference  with  me, — 
except  to  kill  her  husband  if  I  got  the  chance.  I 
knew  he  was  nothing  to  her  but  a  name.  She  had 
queer  blood  in  her  veins,  hot  as  Hungary,  but  an 
aristocrat  on  one  side  by  birth.  One  of  those 
crooked  things  made  to  look  straight  on  the  outside. 
Europe  is  full  of  them.  In  the  beginning  we  swore 
to  dupe  them  all,  to  continue  our  intimacy  in  the 
face  of  whatever  arrived  to  us  in  consequence, — 
we  belonged  to  each  other,  and  we  laughed  at  fate. 


THE  MESSENGER  OF  BELGRADE      99 

Then  I  was  dispatched  to  the  Transvaal,  and  my  re 
call  changed  to  a  more  remote  region  even,  and  so 
on  until  I  swore  I  would  break  loose  forever  unless 
I  was  allowed  to  come  back.  And  she  had  disap 
peared,  not  a  word,  not  a  sign  left  for  me. 

"  The  doors  of  the  old  palace  were  shut  in  my 
face.  I  would  not  bribe  servants,  for  pride.  We 
had  no  friends  in  common.  She  was  above  me  in 
rank,  I  told  you.  Then  came  the  imperial  demand 
for  some  one  to  interview  Serafoff  in  his  fastness. 
They  tried  it,  one  after  another,  officer  after  officer 
crazy  for  preferment.  Officer  after  officer  got  the 
place  but  they  never  reported  and  no  one,  unless 
perhaps  the  crows,  knew  where  they  laid  down.  I 
heard  of  it  and  asked  permission  to  go.  Nobody 
disputed  my  right.  I  set  off  with  a  small  escort  of 
horsemen  all  disguised  as  Turks,  to  settle  the  loca 
tion  of  certain  disputed  forts,  to  learn  the  roads, 
and  what  rivers  had  bridges, —  in  case  of  Russian 
travellers  coming  after  me;  and  intending  ulti 
mately  to  reach  the  Chief  of  the  Insurgents  and  de 
liver  the  verbal  message  of  the  Tsar,  which  he  was 
ready  to  make  good,  though  not  to  entrust  to  pa 
per." 

He  paused,  too  exhausted  to  continue,  and  Ra 
leigh  scarcely  breathed.  After  a  little  he  went  on 
more  rapidly, — "  I  left  them,  and  in  my  Turkish 
costume,  made  the  last  day's  journey  on  foot  and 
alone,  effecting  my  meeting  with  the  man  who  was 


ioo  THE  SIN  OF  'ANGELS 

setting  all  Christendom  at  nought.  I  had  barely  re 
joined  my  escort,  and  set  out  to  retrace  our  jour 
ney,  when  my  field  glasses  showed  me  horsemen, 
Turkish  cavalry  on  second  sight,  coming  down  on 
us  at  a  run.  I  rolled  my  maps  as  tightly  as  I 
could,  crowded  them  into  the  blouse  of  my 
bravest  man,  and  bade  them  all  fly !  I  counted  the 
minutes  it  would  take  them,  after  emerging  from 
the  shelter  of  the  undergrowth,  to  cross  the  rolling 
country  beyond,  in  full  view,  before  the  wooded 
hillsides  again  gave  them  cover.  On  came  the 
deadly  Turkish  cavalry  at  a  mad  pace.  I  waited, 
always  calculating  the  seconds  that  must  elapse  to 
insure  the  safety  of  my  work  and  my  posthumous 
reputation.  The  armed  band  of  friendly  insurrec 
tionists  was  not  far  away,  but  would  my  men  find 
it?  Or  would  they  meet  other  bands  of  Turks  to 
stay  and  slaughter? 

"  On  they  came,  until  they  halted  with  a  ragged 
flourish  and  threw  themselves  upon  me.  The 
leader,  seizing  my  bridle  rein,  demanded  my  name, 
what  government  I  served,  by  whose  permission  I 
was  alive,  and  what  I  was  doing? 

"  I  shook  my  head,  and  inwardly  calculated  that 
my  maps  were  about  to  strike  open  stretches  on 
Slazek's  breast.  They  tried  me  in  several  tongues, 
Bulgarian  and  Greek  among  others,  always  with 
out  result.  I  was  trembling  for  the  inevitable  sortie 
of  my  men  from  the  underbrush,  as  I  pretended 


THE  MESSENGER  OF  BELGRADE     101 

by  signs  that  I  was  of  no  importance  to  them.  At 
last,  when  I  dared  wait  no  longer,  I  let  them  see 
that  I  understood  them.  They  were  crowding  upon 
me  cruelly,  dragging  me  from  my  horse.  I  kept 
them  close  about  me  while  I  admitted,  word  by 
word  wrung  from  me  by  their  weapons  pointed  at 
my  heart,  that  I  had  been  an  innocent  offender;  a 
mere  mad  Englishman,  exploring  for  his  own  en 
tertainment,  protographing,  it  was  true,  and  botan- 
ising,  but  without  ulterior  motive.  I  was  spared 
execution  in  the  end,  but  searched,  stripped  and 
tied  to  a  tree,  left  to  realise  my  outrage  against  the 
interior  privacy  of  the  Khedive's  premises,  while 
they  rode  away  with  my  horse  in  their  lead.  It 
was  not  improbable  that  my  own  false  Turks  would 
work  their  way  out.  I  felt  so  confident  of  it  at 
first  that  I  felt  nothing  else.  I  had  trusted  Slazek 
with  a  cypher  His  Majesty  alone,  would  understand, 
if  repeated  as  I  gave  it.  The  realisation  of  my 
own  predicament  only  came  to  me  later.  All  after 
noon  I  strained  at  the  cords  which  bound  me.  The 
sun  came  round  the  tree  and  found  me.  All  sorts 
of  small  insects  ran  over  my  face  and  arms,  an  ex 
quisitely  contrived  torture.  At  nightfall  I  had  for 
gotten  them  for  the  torment  of  thirst.  At  dawn 
my  flesh  was  so  swollen  and  my  mouth  so  dry  I 
could  scarcely  swallow.  It  was  not  until  after  the 
noon  of  the  second  day,  that  an  old  hag  gathering 
weeds  for  colouring,  came  within  sight  of  my  half 


102  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

blinded  eyes.  She  took  me  for  a  corpse,  and  tot 
tered  away  with  an  outcry  of  terror.  I  did  my  best 
to  scream  after  her,  "  Little  Mother !  Little 
Mother !  "  My  tongue  was  so  swollen  I  could  not 
close  my  mouth  and  my  voice  was  less  than  a  groan. 
She  must  have  had  a  soldier  son,  Allah  reward 
her!  for  she  came  back  bringing  another  younger 
peasant  with  her,  after  a  time.  They  cut  me  loose 
and  together  dragged  me  like  a  dead  animal  into 
their  hut.  I  don't  know  how  long  I  was  there. 
Lemaurret,  the  French  correspondent,  who  knew 
what  I  had  undertaken,  had  me  searched  for,  and 
I  was  found  and  moved  at  night,  still  unconscious. 
I  came  to  myself  in  Stamboul,  the  charge  of  Rus 
sians  and  newspaper  men  who  seemed  to  know  all 
about  me.  They  pinned  a  diamond  star  on  my 
pajamas  and  said  two  of  my  men  got  through  alive. 
Then  I  went  off  my  head  again,  and  they  had  a 
congratulatory  dinner  down  at  the  Pera  without 
the  guest  of  honour,  because  he  was  raving  wild 
with  fever  again,  and  counting  always  the  instants 
between  the  open  and  the  covert  beyond, —  That's 
all,"  he  said,  noting  Raleigh's  tense  attention,  hun 
gering  for  more. 

"  But  how  did  you  come  here  alone  ?  "  he  begged. 

"  Any  old  way.  There  was  no  reason  for  stay 
ing  down  there.  The  fellows  had  all  scattered  long 
before  I  could  step  alone.  But  the  fever  got  me 
again,  and  — " 


THE  MESSENGER  OF  BELGRADE       103 

He  fainted  with  his  secret  still  untold. 

All  night  and  next  day  Raleigh  attended  him. 
He  had  wired  at  once  for  a  physician  from  Buda, 
but  it  looked  as  if  he  would  be  superfluous  if  he 
came.  At  twilight  the  mist  seemed  to  roll  back 
from  the  stupors  of  mortal  weakness  and  Heath- 
leagh  gave  a  clear  look  right  up  into  the  eyes  that 
had  watched  over  him  all  night  and  day. 

"  Don't  forget  the  address.  See  me  off.  Send 
me  before  you  leave  Belgrade.  One  thing  more, 

—  you  will  find  a  lot  of  poems  in  my  despatch  box, 

—  queer   trick   for  a   man  like  me.     Burn  them. 
Nobody  ever  saw  them  but  her.     Some  of  them  are 
not  so  bad, —  but  her  husband  might, —    You  have 
been  white  to  me.     Some  chap  will  stand  by  you 
the  same  way !     Take  whatever  you  find  and  do 
what  you  like  with  it.     It  is  yours.     Wish  I  had 
more  to  leave.     There  will  be  no  one  to  dispute  you, 

—  no  heirs,  no  executors,  no  mourners.     This  is  a 
private  matter,  no  governments  need  apply !     If  you 
have  loved  a  woman  you  have  nothing  to  expect 
from  heaven  or  hell, —  you  know  it  all !     I  meant 
at  first  to  tell  you, —  but  I  can't  now  — "     That  was 
all,    not    one    word    of    the    secrets    his    watcher 
was    straining   every   nerve   to   hear.     Only   once 
more,  at  dawn,  he  roused  himself  to  whisper,  "  I 
wish    she    knew, —  that's   all  " —  and    never    spoke 
again. 

His  ceremonious  burial  did  prove  to  be  a  govern- 


104  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

ment  affair  after  all.  It  was  conspicuously  at 
tended  for  a  man  outside  government  and  aris 
tocracy.  The  newspaper  men  were  there  in  a  body 
and  the  War  Office  assisted.  There  were  crossed 
Russian  and  English  flags  on  the  bier  and  many 
forms  of  funereal  distinction  and  many  masses  for 
the  repose  of  the  soul,  to  whom  heaven  was  about 
the  only  locality  left  unexplored.  Raleigh  read  it 
all  in  the  despatches.  Every  journal  of  any  preten 
sion  reported  it  in  full,  but  none  told  a  breath  of 
those  state  secrets  his  stiff  lips  had  held  back  even 
in  the  garrulity  of  fever,  even  in  the  white  hour  of 
death.  And  the  American,  bitterly  chagrined,  had 
to  admit  himself  checkmated  in  his  heart's  desire. 
He  had  wanted  the  kernel  of  an  intrigue  known  to 
no  living  man,  and  he  had  got  a  thrilling  story,  and 
a  mass  of  manuscript  to  increase  the  fame  of  the 
man  who  had  kept  his  own  counsel  to  the  end. 
Only  His  Majesty  knew  the  answer  borne  on 
Slazek's  brown  breast  to  the  foot  of  the  throne,  and 
the  message  delivered  in  person,  despite  the  glar 
ing  Cossacks  that  would  have  barred  his  access,  and 
turned  him  back  as  an  assassin,  with  their  crossed 
lances.  Before  Raleigh  had  time  to  more  than  ex 
ecute  the  simple  order  of  action  he  had  promised, 
his  own  cable  came,  and  he  moved  southward  in 
haste,  steeled  to  keener  effort,  resolutely  setting 
aside  the  advice  to  go  home  and  live  content  with 


THE  MESSENGER  OF  BELGRADE       105 

love,  while  the  enemies  of  the  Turk  and  Martyrs 
of  conviction  bled  to  death  in  the  massacres  whose 
wild  prayers  for  succour  were  unheard  by  Allah, 
Mohammed,  or  God  himself,  unless  the  Christian 
nations  stood  unfailing  at  their  post. 


CHAPTER  VI 

SHADOWS  CAST  BEFORE 

OF  all  the  incidents  that  he  was  free  to  relate 
afterward,  there  was  none  Raleigh  told  so 
well,  so  simply  yet  with  such  sure  dramatic 
effect,  as  that  tale  of  the  dead  man  whose  eyes  he 
had  closed  at  Belgrade.  It  set  his  own  part  in  the 
tragedy  in  a  modest  but  magnanimous  light,  care 
lessly  as  he  might  touch  upon  his  great  pity  for  the 
stranger.  He  may  have  enlarged  a  little  on  the 
poor  boy's  gratitude,  but  for  some  private  restrain 
ing  reason  of  his  own,  he  omitted  all  mention  of 
the  poetic  bequest  of  the  deceased,  though  he  never 
failed  to  light  up  with  an  increasing  glamour  how 
he  had  loved  and  hated  the  woman  who  had  tricked 
him.  Sometimes,  when  he  had  told  the  story  un 
til  his  own  mannerisms  had  become  unconscious,  he 
would  lower  his  voice  at  the  end,  saying  earnestly, 
"  I  only  wish  I  might  meet  her  once, —  for  his  dead 
sake !  "  Implying  much.  And  his  listeners  were 
loth  to  break  the  spell,  acquitting  him  of  melo 
drama  for  sake  of  his  personal  part  in  the  tragedy. 
He  had  been  telling  it  to  Grandee  and  the  Trents 
one  evening  shortly  after  his  return.  They  were 
out  on  the  terrace,  for  the. late  afternoon  was  sul- 
106 


SHADOWS  CAST  BEFORE     107 

try  in  spite  of  September  and  the  forest  fires  made 
the  air  depressing.  Stephanie  in  one  of  her  con 
solation  gowns,  a  bit  of  Paris  mysticism,  occult  in 
cut  and  line,  had  joined  them  only  at  the  close. 
She  lay  back  in  her  low  willow  chair,  with  her  ex 
traordinarily  high  bronze  heels  crossed  before  her, 
an  epitome  of  indolence,  hardly  hearing  what  Ra 
leigh  was  saying  and  making  no  effort  at  attention. 
Steven  Randall,  who  had  been  strolling  slowly  up 
and  down,  had  just  returned  to  his  chair  beside  her, 
while  Christine  and  Jim  finished  their  cooling  tea, 
forgotten  during  the  narrative. 

"  I  wonder  if  there  is  always  a  woman  behind 
every  man,  to  account  for  what  he  does  and  leaves 
undone,"  Christine  remarked,  abstractedly. 

"  You  remember  Euripides  called  her  '  the  gleam 
ing  snare,' "  suggested  Grandee. 

"  And  Omar  *  this  woman  of  enchanted  clay,'  " — 
Raleigh  added. 

"  I  should  hate  to  think  any  woman  capable  of 
putting  such  conceptions  of  heaven  and  hell  into 
the  soul  of  any  man,  as  this  miserable  victim  held," 
Christine  began. 

"  There  is  no  heaven  or  hell,"  said  Stephanie 
calmly,  not  troubling  hereself  to  glance  in  their  di 
rection.  "  And  this  man  probably  lied.  All  men 
lie  about  a  woman,  especially  if  the  woman  escapes 
them."  As  she  spoke  Joel  Underwood's  voice  rose 
querulous  and  implacable  from  below: 


io8  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

"  Raleigh,  you  are  spoiling  a  rose  vine !  "  It  al 
ways  made  Stephanie  open  her  eyes  unusually  wide 
to  hear  her  husband  spoken  to  like  a  naughty  child, 
by  the  glum  old  gardener,  whose  creed  was  uni 
versal  blight.  Raleigh  had  been  half  sitting,  half 
leaning  against  the  terrace  wall  before  them,  as  he 
spoke,  with  his  back  to  the  view. 

"  There,  you  have  spoiled  it ! "  Joel  grumbled, 
coming  up  with  his  pruning  shears  to  cut  off  the 
bruised  branch.  "  You  always  was  a  two-legged 
devil  in  a  garden,"  he  continued,  aggravated  by  the 
unimportance  of  his  offence  shown  by  this  lawless 
outsider. 

"  It  will  grow  right  out  again,"  Raleigh  said 
easily. 

"  July's  the  growing  month.  Nothing  grows  in 
August,  it  ripens,"  Joel  insisted,  "  and  in  Septem 
ber  it  waits  for  the  frost, —  if  it  has  not  been  eaten 
up  by  insects  or  the  worms'  nests  covered  it." 

"  How  is  the  garden,  now  ? "  Christine  asked 
affably.  Joel  Underwood  showed  his  contempt  for 
so  general  an  interest.  He  was  capable  of  being 
Rabelasian  in  his  conversation  under  due  provoca 
tion,  but  he  would  have  been  surprised  to  hear  it. 
He  condemned  her  now  in  his  general  suspicion  of 
all  women  who  considered  children  before  gardens. 

If  she  had  asked  how  the  asters  stood  up  under 
the  heat,  or  remarked  that  his  hollyhocks  had  won 
derfully  escaped  mildew, —  she  might  have  been 


SHADOWS  CAST  BEFORE     109 

worth  answering.  As  it  was,  he  confined  himself 
to  a  non-committal  answer  such  as  her  general 
query  deserved. 

"  About  as  usual, —  so  so."  Then  compelled  by 
his  subject  beyond  control  or  regard  of  persons,  he 
added  generously, — "  A  bug  for  every  flower." 

"  But  it  is  looking  lovely !  "  Christine  exclaimed. 
Jim  Trent  nodded  his  approval  of  her  enthusiasm. 
There  was  a  theory  in  some  minds  that  he  never 
talked  unless  he  had  to  for  money.  "  It  is  a  nice 
quiet  profession.  I  envy  you,"  he  said. 

"  Gardening  has  fallen  off.  Nothing  in  it,  as 
you  may  say,  but  worry  " — Joel  sighed. 

He  had  one  glass  eye,  and  no  one  could  exactly 
tell  now  whether  he  was  looking  at  Stephanie  or 
Christine.  "There's  the  cutty  worm,  and  the  rose 
lice,  and  the  blight,"  he  enumerated,  with  pride  at 
his  opposition  forces,  "  and  the  hollyhock  rust,  and 
ants,  let  alone  the  chance  of  drought  and  mildew. 
Seems  as  if  Providence  set  up  nights  thinking  up 
insects.  It  is  the  plagues  of  the  Scripture  all  over 
again." 

"  You  are  a  great  realist,  Joel,"  Steven  Randall 
commented. 

"  I  talk  it  as  it  is,"  returned  Joel  sourly. 

"  That  is  a  lost  art  in  itself,"  said  Jim  Trent, 
speaking  a  second  time,  much  to  everyone's  sur 
prise. 

"  Joel's  father  was  such  a  rabid  optimist  it  made 


no  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

a  cynic  of  him,"  explained  Randall,  smiling.  "  It 
is  apt  to  work  out  that  way." 

"  Of  course,  if  you  see  how  anything  looks,  you 
would  do  the  other.  Any  over-worked  trait  is  try 
ing,  to  live  with,"  Christine  put  in  shrewdly. 

The  humming  birds,  mad  with  colour  and  fra 
grance,  were  careening,  on  the  emerald  breezes  of 
their  own  gauzy  wings  over  the  tall  spikes  of  the 
red  balm.  A  little  cry  of  pleasure  escaped  Ste 
phanie,  who  had  been  watching  them,  oblivious  of 
all  else  about  her.  The  charm  of  it  appealed  to  the 
glitter-loving  Viennese. 

Joel  Underwood  followed  her  gaze  to  the  hon 
eyed  heads  slightly  bowing,  where  the  infatuated 
tipplers  had  passed. 

"  A  toad  is  worth  a  hundred  of  'em  in  a  gar 
den,"  he  informed  her.  "  Nineteen  cents  a  week,  I 
calculate,  is  the  value  per  capita  of  every  toad. 
These  flimsy  things  take  the  honey  from  the  bees 
and  don't  amount  to  anything,  any  way." 

Stephanie  made  a  little  shrinking  gesture  of 
aversion. 

"  I  had  a  shocking  experience  with  a  toad  yes 
terday,"  she  said,  with  another  shudder.  "  I  met 
it  in  the  heliotrope  bed,  near  where  I  sit.  I  hoped 
he  would  go  away,  but  he  sat  there  and  stared  at 
me  with  such  a  sinister  expression, —  I  got  up  and 
gave  him  the  afternoon  for  himself.  He  seemed 
like  a  bad  dream  or  an  evil  omen." 


SHADOWS  CAST  BEFORE  in 

"  The  cat  likes  the  humming  birds  best,  too," 
said  Raleigh.  "  He  agrees  with  you  against  Joel. 
See  him  sit  and  jerk  his  head  off  trying  to  watch 
them  as  they  dart  back  and  forth.  It  is  quite  an 
epitome  of  the  eternal  lure ! " 

"  He  would  be  worse  off  if  he  ate  one,"  warned 
Joel.  "  How  it  would  feel  inside !  All  beak  and 
whizz !  " 

"  The  ideal  is  said  to  be  indigestible,"  Raleigh  re 
marked. 

"  That  is  realism  and  life  too,  for  you,"  said 
Randall,  as  they  all  laughed  and  Joel  moved  dis 
approvingly  away. 

"  It  is  life,  any  way,"  Raleigh  assented. 

"  I  wonder  if  it  is  " —  mused  Grandee.  "  I  have 
thought  a  good  deal  about  that  lately,  now  that  my 
engagements  are  chiefly  mental.  What  life  is, 
what  it  ought  to  be,  or  might  be.  The  French 
man  says  the  creator,  by  love  or  genius,  alone  lives. 
His  theory  holds  that  however  crowned,  the  rest  of 
us  are  only  dead  bodies,  inanimate  and  outside  the 
real  existing  universe." 

Raleigh  straightened  himself  for  discussion. 
"  The  decreasing  population  of  France  needs  the 
first  propaganda  to  avert  race  suicide,  and  the  ar 
tistic  pride  of  France  will  support  the  other,"  he 
said.  He  felt  a  certain  vague  disapproval  in 
Grandee's  eyes  of  late.  Perhaps  it  was  only  in 
voluntary  criticism,  a  covertly  implied  accusation. 


H2  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

To  one  whose  approbativeness  was  so  justly  devel 
oped  it  could  not  fail  to  be  disconcerting,  however 
politely  veiled. 

Steven  Randall  had  watched  his  nephew's  wife 
fondly.  Was  it  strange  if  he  noted  an  emptiness 
in  her  woman's  heart,  that  Raleigh,  a  careerist  at 
least,  a  casuist  at  best  and  by  trade,  was  blind  to? 
Was  it  not  a  natural  misgiving  for  the  wise  old  in 
valid  to  dread  lest  in  sacrificing  these  years  of  their 
youth  to  worldly  success  and  fame,  they  were  for 
getting  the  provision  of  age  against  loneliness  and 
decay?  Would  not  this  highway  of  success  prove 
a  blind  alley  if  it  stopped  short  with  this  forceful 
creature,  who  must  at  last  admit  his  end?  Respect 
for  the  individuality  of  another,  always  sacred  to 
him,  kept  him  silent,  but  to-night  he  hoped  Raleigh 
might  respond  to  the  hidden  message  from  his  deep 
desire.  It  seemed  that  he  had,  at  first,  for  his  next 
words  caught  eagerly  at  the  Frenchman's  last 
phrase. 

"  Life  is  either  interpretation  or  creation  " —  he 
confessed,  "  and  there  is  no  joy  like  literary  crea 
tion  and  nothing  costs  like  letting  it  go." 

"  Do  you  keep  up  your  writing  at  all  now,  Ra 
leigh  ?  "  asked  Christine.  Grandee  had  wanted  to 
ask  it  often,  but  his  regret  over  Raleigh's  dropping 
literature  for  finance  and  even  diplomacy,  was  a 
sore  point  between  them  that  they  covered  by  mu 
tual  evasion. 


SHADOWS  CAST  BEFORE     113 

"  I  may  have  tried  to  desert  my  first  Love,  but 
she  rarely  lets  a  man  go,"  Raleigh  replied,  smiling 
to  himself. 

"  There  is  really  nothing  to  be  made  in  poetry,  is 
there?"  asked  Jim  Trent. 

"  I  had  always  hoped  there  might  be  immortality 
for  a  Payne  in  literature,"  put  in  Grandee  sternly, 
as  one  whose  gods  were  profaned  by  the  commer 
cial  standard. 

"  It  would  almost  seem  to  indicate  a  loss  of 
power,"  Christine  noted,  tentatively. 

"  Well,  since  you  force  me  to  the  defence,"  said 
Raleigh,  still  smiling,  "  though  I  meant  it  as  a  sur 
prise  for  you  all,  I  don't  mind  admitting  that  I  am 
going  to  edit  a  volume  of  poems  before  long;  as 
soon  as  I  can  prepare  them  for  the  printer." 

"  Why  did  you  say  edit  ?  You  mean  they  are  to 
be  published  anonymously  ? "  his  uncle  asked  in 
credulously. 

"  I  claim  to  be  their  editor,  nothing  more,  on  the 
title  page."  Raleigh's  answer  was  non-committal. 
It  did  not  satisfy  his  questioner. 

"  Why  ?  "  Steven  Randall  again  enquired. 

"  Your  imagination  is  at  liberty  to  supply  you 
with  a  host  of  plausible  reasons,  all  sufficiently 
good,  which  may  or  not  be  the  determining  one  in 
my  case,"  Raleigh  still  parried. 

"  You  mean  that  to  make  a  literary  venture  would 
harm  your  political  prospects  in  the  sober  judg- 


ii4  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

ment  of  practical  men, —  impress  the  world 
as  something  one  side  and  hinting  a  lack  of  bal 
ance  ?  " 

"  Worse  still,  as  something  frivolous,  even  derog 
atory,"  Raleigh  assented,  finishing  out  the  sentence 
for  him.  Steven  Randall  thought  a  little,  as  if 
considering  the  situation  from  all  sides,  then  he 
said  positively: 

"  That  will  do  for  an  excuse  to  the  outside  world, 
Raleigh,  but  underneath  your  hundred  best  reasons 
that  you  always  have  ready  for  your  own  justifica 
tion,  what  is  the  real  reason  for  anonymity  ?  " 

"  It  might  be  the  very  last  one  you  would  hit 
upon, —  the  truth,"  Raleigh  suggested,  with  a  smile 
that  was  captivating  but  intentionally  unconvincing. 
"  Who  knows  but  even  in  these  complex  and 
wicked  modern  times,  I  might  be  in  reality  simply 
what  I  claim  to  be, —  the  editor  ?  " 

Steven  Randall  tossed  away  his  cigar  as  if  the 
probability  of  such  a  truth  went  with  it,  as  far  as 
he  was  concerned. 

"  That  might  be  true  with  another  man,"  he 
said  quickly.  "  I  know  you  too  well  to  picture  you 
devoting  yourself  to  the  success  of  another  poet's 
efforts." 

"You  think  me  too  selfish,  sir?" 

"  Too  busy  at  least." 

"  All  men  have  their  whims,  especially  the  poets 
themselves.  Why  should  I  not  turn  benefactor  of 


SHADOWS  CAST  BEFORE     115 

letters,  if  I  happen  to  please?"  Raleigh  asked  in 
defence. 

"  Because  men  in  the  public  eye  and  in  positions 
of  authority  cannot  indulge  in  whims,"  Randall  re 
torted.  "  Every  one  will  know  the  poems  are  yours, 
and  you  far  better  sign  them,  or  burn  them  up  if 
you  are  ashamed  of  them.  There  is  always  some 
thing  cheap  about  mysteries  of  authorship  and  they 
never  clear  up  just  as  one  expects  them  to." 

"  It  seems  to  me  an  innocent  enough  little  com 
edy," —  Raleigh  said  lightly,  then  added  — "  Even 
where  it  is  a  mere  mask  and  not  the  simple  truth." 

"  Will  they  be  out  in  time  so  that  I  can  send 
them  to  everybody  for  a  Christmas  present?" 
Christine  asked  eagerly.  "  Who  publishes  them  ? 
Your  old  firm?" 

She  was  counting  already  on  her  fingers  the  num 
ber  of  copies  to  be  ordered. 

"  Why,  no,  I  believe  not,"  Raleigh  temporised. 
"  I  showed  them  to  the  most  exclusive  house  in 
London  and  they  said  they  wanted  them.  I  have 
not  written  them  my  final  decision  yet.  I  am  con 
sidering  several  alternatives." 

Literally  he  had  not  given  his  word  to  any  firm, 
or  his  consent  to  their  publication  at  all,  but  the 
implied  aspersion  of  his  literary  power  to  make 
good,  pricked  him  to  the  decision.  His  mind  was 
suddenly  made  up  on  a  matter  over  which  it  had 
vacillated  more  than  he  cared  to  admit.  He  was  in 


ii6  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

the  habit  of  being  sure.  Indecision  like  this  seemed 
like  doubt  of  himself. 

"Bravo!"  cried  Steven  Randall.  "Then  they 
must  be  the  real  thing  and  not  too  poor  to  claim 
when  the  right  time  comes." 

"  They  tell  me  so.  No  one  can  tell  how  the  pub 
lic  will  take  them.  They  do  not  sound  like  the 
minor  poets,  at  least.  Indeed  I  am  afraid  they  are 
rather  daring;  perhaps  they  are  too  much  steeped 
with  reflection  of  the  local  colour  of  the  East." 

"  What  are  they  about  ?  "  Christine  demanded. 

"  What  are  lyrics  always  about  ?  "  he  counter- 
questioned,  looking  at  Stephanie.  But  she  was 
evincing  little  or  no  interest  in  the  poems  she  might 
reasonably  be  expected  to  have  inspired.  Set  apart 
by  her  own  displeasure  with  Raleigh  and  her  uncer 
tainty  as  to  the  manner  of  her  further  punishment 
of  him,  she  had  turned  a  face  of  stone  toward  all 
his  advances,  refusing  thus  far  to  be  propitiated. 
She  instantly  resolved  now,  not  to  be  drawn  into 
taking  any  interest  in  these  American  poems.  She 
asked  nothing  and  continued  to  express  nothing, 
and  Raleigh  committed  himself  to  his  invariable 
truism, —  least  said  soonest  forgotten, —  and  did  not 
press  for  favour.  She  wore  the  new  Paris  frocks 
and  allowed  him  to  adorn  her  finger  with  a  superla 
tive  ring,  but  the  old  Stephanie  was  not  there  for 
him.  She  had  never  been  lacking  in  spirit  and  Ra 
leigh's  leaving  her  behind  after  promising  to  take 


her  with  him,  had  turned  it  into  definite  resistance, 
her  eyes  into  steel  and  chained  her  heart  in  an 
armour  of  its  own.  She  sat  impassive,  as  the  twi 
light  deepened,  watching  the  first  magic  flare  of 
the  fireflies  phosphorescent  in  the  meadows,  and 
rising  like  errant  stars  to  the  garden  terrace  en 
fete  for  their  amorous  pleasure ;  while  Raleigh  dis 
coursed  on  his  theory  of  art  and  poetry,  and  Chris 
tine  thought  of  the  baby,  and  half  decided  to  risk 
sending  away  the  present  nurse  in  the  hope  of  get 
ting  a  new  one  no  worse, —  and  Steven  Randall 
smoked  and  listened, —  so  fortunate  it  is  that  con 
versation  is  capable  of  varied  forms  of  enjoyment. 

"  I  do  not  agree  with  you.  I  do  not  believe  a 
real  poet  can  be  a  man  of  the  world,"  said  Grandee 
coming  to  the  surface  at  last.  "  He  has  got  to 
have  something  cloistral  in  his  nature,  something 
that  sets  him  apart.  It  is  '  the  burden  of  the  Val 
ley  of  Vision  ' !  " 

"  He  has  got  to  be  a  man  of  the  world,  on  the 
contrary, — "  Raleigh  insisted,  but  just  then  the 
Trents  rose  to  go. 

"  That  was  such  a  thrilling  story  you  told  us ! " 
Christine  said.  "  Be  sure  to  tell  us,  if  you  ever 
find  out  who  the  woman  was,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  a  picturesque  situation,  would  it 
not?"  he  agreed.  "A  sort  of  unsworn  vendetta." 

"  You  might  make  her  fall  in  love  with  you,  and 
then  desert  her,  as  she  did  him." 


ii8  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

"  That  would  be  lacking  in  the  refinement  of 
cruelty.  I  should  choose  a  subtler  form  of  slow 
torture  for  his  vengeance,"  Raleigh  protested 
gravely. 

"  Well,  I  am  thankful  you  happened  along  to 
take  care  of  the  poor  fellow.  Think  of  our  Fred 
die  being  off  alone  some  day  when  he  is  grown  up, 
and  perhaps  getting  sick  and  being  unhappy!  I 
think  we  better  not  send  him  off  to  a  fitting  school, 
after  all,  Jim !  "  Stephanie  had  risen  and  made 
her  good-nights  with  theirs.  After  they  were  left 
to  themselves,  Steven  Randall  turned  sharply  in 
his  chair. 

"  Do  you  realise  that  no  epitaph  lives  after  a 
man  like  his  own  son  ?  " 

"  I  have  waked  up  to  the  fact  that  I  have  no 
heir,"  Raleigh  replied. 

"  Stephanie  has  no  one  in  her  life,  but  an  old 
man  who  loves  her  devotedly,  and  a  young  man 
who  is  blinded  by  the  part  he  has  cast  her  to  play 
in  his  career." 

"  She  has  a  husband  who  never  has  thought 
twice  of  any  other  woman.  That  is  not  too  com 
monplace  a  boast  nowadays." 

Randall's  lips  compressed  as  if  he  was  doing 
something  disagreeable  to  himself.  Aggressive, 
conclusive,  analytic  as  Raleigh  was,  he  missed  the 
exquisite  balance  between  self-interest  and  the 
main  principle, —  the  self-effacement  that  puts  the 


SHADOWS  CAST  BEFORE     119 

cause  of  an  opponent  in  a  fair  discriminating  light. 
He  perceived  a  coarsening  of  the  moral  fibre,  a 
tendency  to  blur  a  doubtful  issue,  an  exaggeration 
of  speech  and  attitude;  a  lowering  of  the  tension 
in  short,  that  holds  a  man  firm  to  the  unalterable 
truth  unmindful  of  its  effect  upon  his  personal 
avail. 

"  I  am  not  judging  your  scheme  of  life,  Raleigh. 
I  have  no  right  to,  above  all  not  to  interfere  be 
tween  man  and  wife.  But  you  are  both  dear  to 
me  as  my  own  blood,  and  I  want  to  feel  the  old 
place  here  goes  to  others  of  your  name.  Of  course 
there  is  Christine, —  but  I  would  be  willing  to  die 
and  leave  my  books  and  flowers  to  be  sure  another 
Raleigh  Payne  would  cherish  all  I  love,  instead  of 
strangers.  I  drop  this  hint  for  whatever  it  may  be 
worth.  At  all  events  it  seems  to  me  you  must  not 
make  business  an  excuse  to  decline  the  offices  of 
humanity.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  prostituting 
one's  own  for  business  ends  that  quite  escapes  the 
laws  protecting  women." 

Only  his  habit  of  respect  for  his  uncle  kept  Ra 
leigh  submissively  silent.  He  detected  this  and 
laid  a  kindly  hand  on  his  nephew's  shoulder.  "  A 
man  cannot  live  for  himself  alone,  my  dear  Raleigh. 
Seneca  was  right  when  he  said  '  Man  was  made 
men  that  they  might  help  one  another.'  You  owe 
Stephanie  the  same  duty  as  yourself.  I  admit  the 
tide  in  the  affairs  of  men  that  must  be  taken  at 


120  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

the  flood,  but  it  will  drown  you  in  the  end,  if  you 
permit  it  no  turning.  Stephanie  has  bent  to  your 
will  these  three  years,  as  no  American  woman  of 
her  spirit  would  have  done.  She  has  been  here 
alone  all  summer.  You  owe  it  to  her  to  take  a 
year  for  yourselves.  Travel,  settle  down  abroad 
where  she  will  be  happy  and  amused,  and  let  Prov 
idence  or  Nature  see  to  the  revival  of  your  old  love 
for  each  other." 

"  I  doubt  if  a  tete-a-tete  with  me  would  exactly 
amuse  her,  in  her  present  mood,"  Raleigh  sug 
gested. 

"It  is  not  too  late.  You  have  prevented  her  na 
ture,  but  if  you  set  yourself  to  winning  her 
back  she  will  discover  with  Antigone, — '  Je 
suis  fait  pour  1'amour  et  pas  pour  la  haine/ 
And  where  love  is  God  is,  and  where  God  is,  is 
Life." 

Raleigh  was  moved.  His  mouth  showed  it,  and 
the  warmth  of  the  clasp  his  hand  returned  to  the 
one  outstretched  him,  as  if  to  sweeten  the  bitter 
ness  of  the  attack. 

"  Give  me  just  this  winter  first,  sir.  I  must  see 
the  poems  through  the  press  and  hold  on  in  Wall 
Street  till  after  January.  Then,  let  it  be  as  you 
say.  Give  me  until  February  in  New  York  and 
then  if  I  can  go,  I  will." 

Randall  hesitated.  "  You  propose  another  win 
ter  like  your  last  ?  " 


SHADOWS  CAST  BEFORE     121 

"  More  or  less.  I  must  be  in  the  West  a  few 
weeks  right  away,  and  then  in  Washington  for  a 
short  time.  You  see,  Uncle  Steven,  it  is  not  known 
yet,  but  there  may  be  a  cabinet  position  vacant,  also 
a  new  Ambassador  at  the  post  I  have  most  cov 
eted  within  a  month  or  two.  Either  would  suit  my 
book  perfectly.  I  do  not  say  I  am  actually  in  line 
for  either,  but  I  am  as  well  qualified  as  any  man, 
and  it  will  take  money,  as  well  as  influence  and 
other  things.  I  have  got  to  have  one  more  winter 
to  accomplish  things:  capital,  more  influence,  you 
understand?  Stephanie  likes  it,  you  know.  You 
need  not  pity  her.  All  women  live  on  admiration. 
She  was  born  for  the  very  life  I  am  giving  her. 
Only  imagine  Christine  Trent  in  her  place  or  Ste 
phanie  in  Christine's  place,  to  .convince  yourself  of 
the  absurdity  of  it !  " 

"  Women  are  all  alike  if  you  go  deep  enough," 
Randall  objected  sadly. 

"  Never !  Stephanie  is  not  domestic.  She  is  a 
shining  firefly.  She  dazzles  like  a  humming  bird, 
leaving  the  useful  toad  and  the  humble  bee  to  their 
less  spectacular  vocations." 

"  Stephanie  is  a  girl  no  longer,"  Randall  per 
sisted.  "  Remember,  Raleigh,  and  never  forget  this 
I  am  going  to  remind  you  of,  in  America  love  is  an 
episode  of  youth,  steadying  down  to  a  mutual  life 
of  gain  or  loss  for  a  common  end.  But  abroad, 
love  is  a  preoccupation  and  pastime  of  maturity. 


122  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

Stephanie  is  not  an  American.  You  may  draw 
your  own  conclusion." 

"  I  decline  to.     She  is  a  good  Catholic." 

"  I  consider  that  a  difficulty  in  the  way  of  your 
children.  What  about  her  religion?  She  has  not 
heard  mass  for  weeks,  to  my  best  belief." 

"  Children  naturally  take  their  father's  religion." 

"  What  is  their  father's  religion  likely  to  be,  in 
this  case  ?  " 

The  question  proved  disconcerting. 

"  Both  his  religion  and  hers  have  got  to  keep 
quiet  for  a  time.  My  relation  with  the  Catholics 
is,  at  present,  professionally  hostile.  Get  her  to  be 
reasonable,  if  you  can,  Uncle  Steven.  They  could 
use  it  against  certain  interests  now,  to  a  prejudicial 
degree,  if  the  red  shows  through.  The  Catholics 
are  all  one  pack  and  they  hunt  together.  There  is 
every  kind  of  complication  to  be  avoided.  All  the 
investigation  of  the  last  big  corporation  muddle  I 
was  in,  was  an  Irish  mix-up." 

"  None  of  which  prevents  your  being  more  ex 
pressive,  more  the  lover  in  your  private  life." 

"  Ah,  well,  these  poems  I  am  editing  now  show 
feeling  enough !  You  will  have  no  fault  to  find 
with  them  on  that  score." 

Steven  Randall  scrutinised  the  face  of  his  nephew 
narrowly,  then  he  said  seriously,  as  if  inviting  him 
to  a  desirable  confidence  between  them,  once  for  all, 
"  What  is  your  real  motive  for  playing  out  a 


SHADOWS  CAST  BEFORE     123 

farce  like  that?  What  possible  good  can  come  of 
it?  It  seems  to  me  trivial,  if  not  unworthy." 

"  It  is  a  secret,"  Raleigh  laughed.  "  And  I  be 
lieve  you  are  proving  the  world's  curiosity  your 
self,  sir,  by  your  unwillingness  to  believe  me.  It 
promises  splendidly  for  the  sale  of  the  lyrics  and 
proves  the  very  point  under  discussion.  There  is 
nothing  like  a  secret  to  make  the  outsider  want  to 
know  what  it  is  about !  " 

"  A  secret  the  world  will  scream  from  the  house 
tops  at  the  start !  "  retorted  Randall.  "  Your  man 
ner  is  perfectly  recognisable  to  any  one  who  has 
read  you  before." 

"  My  earlier  manner  is  perhaps, —  but  you  for 
get  I  have  published  nothing  I  have  written  since 
my  marriage.  The  conquest  of  a  woman  gives  a 
man  a  store-house  of  lyric  material  he  never  dared 
approach,  much  less  express." 

Randall  looked  annoyed.  He  could  not  bring 
himself  to  say  how  any  exploitation  of  Stephanie 
would  shock  and  repel  him.  "  I  do  hope  they  are 
not  decadent  stuff,  all  physical  intimacy  and  mor 
bid  satisfaction  — "  he  began. 

"  They  are  rather  hot,  I  warn  you." 

"  Better  unpublished  then  — " 

"  Better  unclaimed  beyond  a  doubt,"  Raleigh 
agreed  without  loss  of  temper. 

"  When  do  you  intend  to  confess  to  your  pub 
lic?" 


124  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

"  Let  us  see  how  they  are  received  first.  And 
mind  you,  Uncle  Steven,  I  have  not  admitted,  even 
to  you  under  pressure,  they  were  my  own.  No  one 
but  Stephanie  would  be  able  to  say  whether  such 
fires  were  burning  in  the  hold  of  my  ship  of  life, 
as  it  sails  serenely  on  the  surface  waters.  She 
knows  me  better  than  any  of  you,  after  all.  And 
as  to  your  complaint  of  my  indifference  toward 
her,  wait  till  I  am  famous !  A  man  shows  a  woman 
how  he  loves  her  by  marrying  her,  once  for  all. 
He  cannot  be  on  exhibition  with  his  feelings.  If 
anything  threatened  Stephanie,  no  man  would  shoot 
straighter  than  I.  But  nothing  is  threatening  her. 
And  as  to  her  religion,  you  recall  the  saying  of 
Gibbon,  no  doubt,  '  all  religions  are  equally  true 
in  the  eyes  of  the  people,  equally  false  in  the  eye 
of  the  philosopher,  equally  useful  in  the  eye  of  the 
magistrate ' !  " 

And  the  only  consoling  hope  Steven  Randall  held, 
at  the  end  of  their  rather  unsatisfactory  talk,  was 
the  certainty  that  Raleigh's  ambition  would  not 
prove  impervious  to  the  hint  of  an  inheritance  and 
a  continuing  name. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  WINTER  OF   THEIR   DISCONTENT 

THE  house  Raleigh  had  taken  for  the  win 
ter  was  fashionably  located,  and  superb, 
if  impersonal  in  effect.  What  it  lacked 
in  association  it  made  up  in  scenic  background. 
In  spite  of  the  theory  that  the  tired  business  man, 
that  alleged  ogre  preventing  ideal  levels  in  theatre 
and  music,  must  be  amused, —  Stephanie  might  be 
said  to  have  listened  her  way  into  men's  favour. 
Man  is  still  male  enough  to  like  to  shine.  And 
there  was  something  in  her  way  of  listening  that 
evinced  a  closer  interest  than  the  mere  topic  re 
quired, —  a  something  enclosing  his  personality 
with  a  glow  of  aroused  possibilities  unsuspected 
by  the  dazzled  owner  of  the  same.  She  did  not,  in 
fact,  allow  herself  to  think  of  other  things,  and 
merely  punctuate  their  recitals  with  appropriate 
and  discriminating  use  of  the  word  "  Really  ?  "  or 
"  How  clever  of  you !  "  The  common  interpola 
tions  of  Yes?  and  No?  were  never  on  her  lips,  yet 
one  felt  she  had  followed,  and  expressed  more 
than  the  words  of  her  voluble  rivals,  who  tried  to 
charm  by  meeting  their  entertainers  half  way  and 
on  their  own  ground.  To  some  men  her  eyes  were 
125 


126  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

the  explanation  of  her  sympathy.  They  warmed 
delightfully;  and  again  there  was  a  dawning  of 
disdain  in  them,  that  warned  from  hotter  pursuit 
of  a  subject  she  disliked.  She  saved  men  her  own 
displeasure  often  thus,  and  they  were  grateful  after 
ward.  She  even  saved  them  from  a  blunder  with 
others,  for  their  own  sake,  by  the  same  illusory 
method.  When  she  understood  the  subject  on 
which  they  were  talking,  her  own  wit  was  no  less 
ready  or  her  tongue  less  halting  than  that  of  the 
precocious  little  girl  of  Carlsbad  long  years  ago. 
But  she  so  rarely  did  understand  I  Of  art  and  mu 
sic  she  heard  little  from  these  Americans,  and  what 
she  heard  of  their  lives  and  occupations  left  her 
small  opening  beyond  the  pretty  small  coin  current 
in  social  interchange;  flattery,  repartee,  the  turn 
ing  of  a  phrase.  She  quickly  saw  their  preference 
for  her  as  a  foreigner,  and  adhered  to  her  role 
with  consummate  tact,  keeping  her  own  counsels 
and  making  no  entangling  admissions  as  to  her  own 
conclusions.  To-night  there  was  one  man  only,  at 
the  dinner  Raleigh  was  giving  for  a  certain  Sena 
tor  likely  to  be  of  use  to  him  later, —  by  whom  she 
might  possibly  have  spent  a  forgetful  hour  or  two. 
He  was  a  young  attache  from  the  German  Lega 
tion  at  Washington,  who  had  happened  over  to 
New  York  and  been  included  as  an  afterthought. 
His  importance  was  too  trivial  to  give  him  the  cov 
eted  place  by  her  side,  and  he  had  sulked  over  it 


WINTER  OF  THEIR  DISCONTENT      127 

at  first,  bored  by  the  woman  next  him  through  no 
fault  of  hers  but  his  own  inward  disappointment. 

"  I  have  so  often  wondered,  since  I  first  met  you, 
over  your  opinion  of  our  American  men  and 
American  life  in  general,"  Senator  Fordyce  was 
saying  to  Stephanie  now,  but  she  could  not  be 
drawn  out,  and  the  glance  of  the  young  attache  was 
openly  commending.  They  two  were  of  a  differ 
ent  civilisation.  Their  opinions  were  not  made  and 
re-made  every  few  hours  and  scattered  down  the 
wind,  like  those  of  these  versatile  and  unreserved 
Americans.  To  deliberate,  was  not  to  speak  one's 
true  thought,  and  never  to  strangers.  He  admired 
the  resistance  of  his  hostess  and  again  sincerely 
cursed  his  neighbour  for  talking  to  him,  so  that  he 
could  not  listen  satisfactorily. 

"  I  suppose  we  must  seem  terribly  in  earnest, 
after  your  sluggish  old  Europe, —  eh  ?  "  he  prod 
ded,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes. 

"  You  do  seem  always  to  be  in  a  terrible  hurry  " 
—  she  admitted,  through  her  long  eyelashes,  her 
own  eyes  smiling  indulgently.  "  When  the  servants 
observe  Mr.  Payne  driving  to  the  door,  they  call 
to  any  other  within  hearing,  '  Hurry  up !  Mr. 
Payne  is  coming ' !  " 

"  Well,  yes,  I  suppose  we  are  all  haunted  by  the 
dream  of  getting  there — " 

"  You  go  always  by  '  grande  vitesse,'  as  we  say, 
you  seem  not  to  care  too  much  where  it  is  that 


128  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

you  arrive,  as  in  how  few  minutes  it  cost  you.  I 
hear  always  spoken  by  the  American  men,  '  I  can 
go  from  the  City  Hall  to  the  tomb  of  Grant  in  so 
and  so  many  minutes.  It  is  not  that  you  really 
care  to  be  at  either  of  your  destinations,  it  seems, 
but  it  pleases  you  to  feel  your  body  hurled  through 
space.  And  after,  to  gain  time  to  go  between  two 
other  places,  where  you  never  will  care  to  remain !  " 

"  But  all  the  same,  my  dear  lady,  we  do  arrive," 
said  Willerson,  on  her  left,  the  great  railroad  mag 
nate  of  the  West. 

"  But  it  is  always  of  transit,  I  hear  so  much 
spoken,  rapid  transit." 

"  It  is  because  we  know  we  shall  arrive  at  last 
that  we  hurry  so,  and  economise  time  at  both  ends. 
We  do  not  decorate  over  here,  but  on  my  roads 
we  raise  the  pay  of  any  engineer  who  beats  his 
own  record  until  it  changes  a  time  table  even  by 
the  fraction  of  a  minute.  There  is  nothing  but  our 
own  record  fast  enough  to  beat !  " 

"  We  are  our  own  ancestors,  in  a  sense.  We 
have  got  to  bequeath  ourselves  a  fortune  and  a 
name  before  we  are  put  up  on  the  top  shelf  by 
the  youngsters,"  explained  the  Senator. 

"  And  to  do  that  in  a  country  where  every  other 
fellow  is  doing  the  same  thing,  requires  celerity !  " 
cried  Willerson. 

"  Exactly,"  agreed  Senator  Fordyce  again. 
"  We  are  nobody  to-day,  the  ruling  magnate  to- 


WINTER  OF  THEIR  DISCONTENT      129 

morrow.  Born  poor,  we  have  to  allow  for  time 
to  die  rich." 

Stephanie  was  listening  deliciously.  One  white 
ring-bedecked  hand  on  her  wine-glass,  which  she 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  to  raise. 

"  Did  you  ever  ride  on  a  locomotive?  "  Willerson 
asked  her  abruptly. 

She  gave  him  a  negative  shrug  and  smile. 

"  That  would  give  it  all  to  you  in  no  time.  Eu 
rope  rides  in  the  Pullman  with  the  doors  locked. 
The  American  is  the  engineer,  out  in  the  night  and 
storm  with  Nature  and  Life  and  Death.  That  is  the 
difference.  I  will  take  you  for  a  run  some  time, 
out  West,  perhaps.  Your  husband  has  promised 
to  make  a  flying  trip  with  me  later  in  the  season. 
After  you  have  ridden  on  a  cow-catcher  through 
the  Rockies  you  will  get  the  idea  without  much 
auto-suggestion !  " 

"  You  see,  my  dear  Mrs.  Payne,"  Senator 
Fordyce  explained,  convinced  that  his  method  of 
enlightening  her  was  less  primitive.  "  You  do  not 
understand  our  underlying  principle.  No  one  stays 
put  over  here.  Everything  shifts  and  every 
one  moves  up  accordingly.  I  do  not  know  about 
Austria,  but  I  take  it  in  England  a  man  who  tends 
gate  at  a  railroad  crossing  was  the  son  of  a  man 
who  tended  the  same  gate.  What  was  good 
enough  for  his  father  is  good  enough  for  him. 
And  nothing  is  good  enough  for  us !  " 


130  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

"  Nor  half  good  enough  for  our  women !  "  said 
Willerson,  with  a  glance  for  his  wife,  a  handsome 
woman  superbly  gowned,  the  oldest  daughter  of  a 
millionaire  down  on  his  luck,  that  Willerson  was 
said  to  have  married  from  the  cashier's  desk  in 
the  Golden  Alhambra  Hotel  at  San  Francisco. 

Stephanie  raised  her  glass.  Both  men  admired 
the  beauty  of  her  throat  as  she  drank.  When  she 
resumed  her  part  in  the  conversation  it  was  with 
a  platitude,  intended  to  set  them  going  again, 
probably. 

"  It  is  also  true  in  Austria.  We  remain  where 
we  were  born,  bien  places  or  to  the  contrary." 

"  That  kind  of  ancestor  worship  would  not  go 
over  here,  unless  we  set  up  shrines  to  ourselves 
while  we  were  alive,"  said  Willerson,  cutting  his 
bird  as  if  it  had  been  an  offering  to  his  own  per 
sonal  divinity  that  had  shaped  his  ends  so  satisfac 
torily. 

"  That  is  what  makes  our  society  so  vital,"  put 
in  the  Senator.  "  There  is  no  old  stagnant  blood, 
half  luxurious  idleness,  half  musty  Port,  in  our 
veins.  Our  people  are  making  and  unmaking  a 
country,  a  history  and  themselves.  They  are  light 
of  touch,  quick  of  action.  It  is  now  or  never 
always  with  our  men  and  women.  The  past  they 
are  done  with,  and  the  future  is  a  margin  they  do 
not  trade  on  too  much." 

"  The  equilibrium  being  assured  by  our  all  liv- 


WINTER  OF  THEIR  DISCONTENT      131 

ing  so  fast  we  can't  fall  off  I  "  said  Willerson,  "  we 
have  no  time  for  trifles.  We  work  like  fury  and 
play  on  the  dead  run  and  do  both  twice  as  hard  as 
the  other." 

"  And  do  you  rest  as  violently  as  you  work  ?  " 
Stephanie  asked,  really  curious  to  hear  what  the 
answer  would  be. 

"  When  we  rest  it  is  under  Doctor's  orders,  with 
a  warning  at  our  temples,  held  up  like  a  mail-train 
in  a  lonely  gulch."  Willerson  spoke  as  if  a  spectre 
had  invaded  the  conversation.  The  Senator  con 
tinued,  still  addressing  Stephanie  exclusively,  "  The 
national  poise,  such  as  it  is,  comes  from  the  up 
ward  strain.  Nobody  is  content.  You  must  have 
noticed  that  in  our  American  women.  They  are 
always  after  something  more, —  something  just  out 
of  reach  the  moment  before — " 

"  They  are  very  wonderful,"  murmured  Stepha 
nie,  taking  her  cue  devoutly. 

"They  arel"  said  Willerson.  "It  is  due  to 
them  that  we  have  an  approach  to  an  aristocracy 
ourselves  now,  though  no  sane  man  would  dare  de 
fine  or  determine  it.  But  the  material  of  which 
our  world  is  made  up  to-day  in  New  York,  is  an 
amalgamated  product.  The  American  men  are  of 
native  stock  idealised.  There  are  not  many  immi 
grants  in  society,  yet,  though  they  are  in  full  cry 
for  the  goal.  But  the  women!  Violet  girls  one 
generation,  and  ladies  of  the  Waldorf  corridors 


132  THE  SIN  OF  'ANGELS 

the  next!  Our  power  of  assimilation  is  not  con 
fined  to  business,  not  at  all!  And  the  American 
man  is  not  afraid  to  marry  the  starriest  eyes  he  sees 
looking  his  way  and  trust  his  own  nerve  to  set 
them  up  in  a  heaven  of  his  own  providing.  Edu 
cation  is  free,  and  culture,  while  it  is  not  a  matter 
of  money,  can  be  had  for  money  in  such  a  close 
imitation  it  often  passes  for  the  real  thing.  There 
is  less  of  that  of  course,  but  we  rise,  we  rise !  We 
are  the  dream  of  evolution  vindicated.  We  are 
evolving  a  nation  of  influential  citizens  out  of  riff 
raff,  and  we  understand  each  other  because  so  many 
of  us  came  up  the  same  road,  or  our  immediate 
people  before  us." 

"  One  must  not  boast  too  much  of  culture," 
demurred  the  Senator,  "  it  is  too  often  of  the 
Club  variety.  Club  culture  and  syndicated 
thought  are  too  much  like  tinned  food  to  bear  ad 
vertising. 

"  O  well,  the  clever  women  come  to  the  top, 
and  there  is  any  place  for  any  one  who  has  the 
eyes  to  see  it  and  the  pluck  to  get  it." 

"  It  is  a  new  idea  to  me,"  Stephanie  said  softly. 
"  I  had  always  an  idea  that  men  did  what  they 
wished  and  women  what  they  must." 

"  The  American  woman  does  not  take  what  is 
left,  I  assure  you.  She  is  after  what  she  wants 
quite  as  fast  as  any  of  the  men,"  insisted  Wilier- 
son. 


WINTER  OF  THEIR  DISCONTENT      133 

"  It  fails  in  repose,  perhaps  a  little,  this  idea  of 
life  ?  "  she  suggested. 

"  O  there  is  repose  enough,  Woodlawn  is  full 
of  it ! "  cried  Willerson,  "  So  is  Greenwood. 
American  repose  comes  after  death.  You  never 
saw  more  determined  monuments  to  it  than  those 
erected  to  us  by  our  grateful  widows.  Angels  of 
Peace,  soothing  selections  of  scripture  wreathed  in 
poppies, —  and  they  are  off  to  Europe  in  clothes 
that  are  a  regular  mourning  frolic,  to  do  us  credit 
by  their  second  marriage, —  always  higher  in  the 
social  scale." 

Stephanie  shrank  a  little.  "  How  very  ter 
rible  you  are!  It  is  not  so,  is  it,  Senator  For- 
dyce?" 

"  Yes,  I  am  afraid  they  do  rise  on  stepping 
stones  of  our  dead  selves  to  higher  things,"  he 
parodied  with  mock  regret.  "  But  they  deserve 
their  reward.  They  help  earn  the  money  and  they 
put  up  with  a  good  deal,  first  and  last.  They  are 
good  partners  and  shrewd  players  in  the  game  of 
life.  They  are  true  till  death  and  what  more  does 
the  prayer  book  even  demand  ? " 

"  And  do  they  all  do  this  that  you  say,  from  love 
or  calculation,  then  ?  "  she  asked,  bewildered  a  little 
by  the  unfamiliar  point  of  view. 

"  Love  on  the  start,  usually,  almost  always. 
Then,  the  great  American  game  of  Success  absorbs 
them  both.  The  women  have  heads.  They  see 


I34  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

further  than  we  do  often,  while  they  seem  busy  with 
their  children  and  their  social  duties." 

"  And  their  hearts  — "  Stephanie  said  vaguely. 

"  O  they  put  all  that  part  of  themselves  into  their 
children.  Love  goes  down  you  know.  We  men 
have  no  time.  It  is  a  wise  father  that  knows  his 
own  child  nowadays." 

"  But  one  hears  so  much  of  your  divorce  scan 
dals — "  she  began. 

"  That  sort  of  thing  is  for  the  idle,  not  the  ambi 
tious,"  Willerson  dismissed  the  notion  as  if  he  had 
been  asked  if  he  liked  poetry.  There  was  a  mo 
mentary  lull.  The  straying  eyes  of  the  attache  met 
those  of  his  hostess  and  exchanged  a  sub-conscious 
comfort,  before  they  veered  from  conscious  eti 
quette. 

Senator  Fordyce  leaned  forward  and  spoke  to  a 
man  sitting  next  beyond  him  on  the  same  side. 

"  They  tell  me  you  have  been  up  to  Sky  High 
to  see  Randall,  this  week,  Doctor;  how  did  you 
find  him?  Improving,  I  hope?" 

Doctor  Wylin,  an  old  friend  of  all  the  Randalls, 
and  one  of  the  noted  and  peerless  clairvoyants  of 
his  profession,  responded  with  enthusiasm. 

"  He  is  so  full  of  joys  and  animosities  that  he 
made  me  feel  old  beside  him !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I 
found  him  reading  the  last  of  James  and  Kitchens, 
and  crazy  over  De  Bussy  music  as  no  one  should 
be  who  is  not  reckless  and  bad  and  ultra-modern 


WINTER  OF  THEIR  DISCONTENT      135 

and  mondaine.  His  heart,  I  fancy,  soliloquises  at 
times, —  but  his  head  vibrates  to  the  life  of  all  key 
notes,  the  more  intricate  the  measure  the  better  for 
him." 

"  You  are  very  old  friends  ?  " 

"  Yes,  we  hunt  in  the  same  pack,  though  we 
seldom  hear  each  other's  voice  or  catch  the  fire 
of  each  other's  eyes.  It  is  a  tribal  affinity,  as  a 
friend  of  mine  expresses  it."  He  did  not  add  that 
he  was  in  his  place  at  this  very  dinner  because 
of  Randall's  repeated  entreaty  of  him  to  keep  Ra 
leigh  in  sight.  And  some  one  at  the  moment  was 
asking  him  for  some  of  his  recent  Balkan  experi 
ences.  Others  urged,  glad  of  a  respite  in  their 
own  efforts  to  be  thought  amusing.  Raleigh  hesi 
tated  becomingly,  seemed  to  be  searching  for  the 
right  thing,  and  began  the  story  of  his  encounter 
with  the  Messenger  of  Belgrade.  He  had  never 
repeated  it  since  landing,  except  to  the  family,  but 
he  had  never  told  it  better.  He  was  at  ease  with 
himself  and  his  world  to-night.  Stephanie  was 
looking  her  best  and  playing  up  just  as  he  wanted 
her  to.  He  had  made  an  unexpected  '  coup '  in 
Wall  street  during  the  week,  the  dinner  had  gone 
admirably,  and  the  men  it  had  been  desirable  to  im 
press  had  appeared  elated  to  be  there,  and  confi 
dent  of  his  right  to  a  place  of  honour  among  them 
and  governmental  recognition  for  his  service.  The 
Senator  and  the  Railroad  King  had  met  on  the 


136  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

great  American  level  that  sets  all  men  bragging  of 
a  common  cause,  and  Stephanie  had  known  pre 
cisely  the  one  line  on  which  this  result  was  sure. 
He  complimented  her  in  his  heart,  even  as  he  was 
speaking.  Only  a  few  weeks  more  of  this  sort  of 
thing  and  he  could  venture  to  take  his  hand  off 
the  lever  for  a  little  while, —  a  few  months  per 
haps,  a  summer, —  no  more, —  but  long  enough  to 
devote  himself  exclusively  to  Stephanie  and  set 
their  relations  right.  They  had  drifted  unaccount 
ably  apart,  still  she  shared  his  projects,  he  included 
her  in  all  his  dreams,  and  that  was  more  than  most 
men  did,  until  after  they  were  realised  at  least. 
She  ought  to  feel  the  flattery  of  his  reliance  upon 
her  tact  to-night.  He  had  put  an  important  situ 
ation  in  her  hands,  and  both  men  were  smiling, 
well  pleased  with  themselves  and  with  her.  And 
she  was  his. 

The  wine  had  been  good  and  he  told  his  favourite 
story  well.  No  one  at  the  table  had  heard  it  be 
fore  or  ever  would  again.  He  made  a  mental  note 
of  each  one  present.  Stephanie  of  course  was  a 
partial  exception,  but  a  man's  wife  in  such  mat 
ters  is  a  negligible  quantity.  She  had  only  heard 
the  end,  any  way,  and  given  it  little  or  no  atten 
tion  in  her  joy  over  those  dervish  humming  birds. 
And  is  it  not  a  part  of  a  woman's  sworn,  "  for 
worse,"  to  listen  to  her  husband's  old  stories?  Ste 
phanie  was  a  comprehending  if  subtle  claque.  He 


WINTER  OF  THEIR  DISCONTENT      137 

glanced  toward  her  constantly  as  he  made  his  points 
tell.  There  was  just  the  right  touch  of  self-efface 
ment  in  the  way  he  subordinated  his  own  mission,  to 
the  brutal  achievement  of  the  dying  man, —  just  the 
right  art  in  the  balance  preserved,  while  he  set  it 
in  all  its  savage  cruelty  before  these  people  in 
evening  dress,  in  a  hot  room  perfumed  with  red 
roses  and  early  hyacinths.  It  took  so  well  that  he 
italicised  the  dead  man's  bitterness  toward  his  Mis 
tress,  whose  base  betrayal  of  a  chap  like  that,  he, 
Raleigh  Payne,  had  been  carried  away  to  wish 
he  might  yet  have  an  opportunity  to  acquit  as  it 
deserved.  He  went  a  little  beyond  his  real  infor 
mation  or  feeling,  stretching  the  situation  to  suit 
the  effect  of  his  recital  on  the  nerves  about  him, 
forgetting  perhaps  just  what  had  been  the  bald 
truth  of  the  experience,  in  its  adaptation  to  literary 
values.  For  even  a  story  must  be  successful  and 
serve  the  moment's  glory  to  the  full,  for  Raleigh 
Payne.  Suddenly  he  gave  the  name  he  had  hith 
erto  withheld.  A  name  added  just  the  necessary 
touch  of  realism,  and  this  name  one  man  at  the 
table  at  least,  the  attache  from  Washington,  would 
be  likely  to  know  and  appreciate. 

Stephanie  was  suddenly  aware  of  a  current  of 
air  blowing  lightly  over  her  tomb,  where  no  sculp 
tured  American  angel  of  peace  kept  guard.  What 
was  it  the  man  half  way  down  the  table  was  say 
ing?  They  had  presented  him  as  an  attache  of 


138  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

some  legation,  had  they  not?  What  name  was 
that  he  was  repeating?  Had  he  actually  spoken  it 
or  had  it  come  by  some  trick  of  memory? 

"  Nicholas  Heathleagh." 

Who  had  thrown  a  pebble  into  the  tarns  of  mem 
ory, —  the  dead  pools  of  the  past,  to  raise  that 
name  to  the  echo?  It  was  not  a  name  known  out 
of  Europe, —  hardly  west  of  the  Russian  frontier. 
It  was  the  foreigner  of  course,  who  had  repeated  it. 
"  So  it  was  Nicolai's  fate  to  die  alone  in  Belgrade. 
It  was  an  honour  for  you,  Mr.  Payne." 

Nicolai  dead,  entrusting  his  honour  to  the  hands 
of  the  man  he  had  thirsted  to  kill!  For  an  in 
stant  she  was  again  back  in  Austria.  The  table 
with  its  represented  power  of  men,  and  glory  of 
decoration  that  was  money,  sank  away  from  her 
like  Klingsor's  garden  of  enchantment. 

Nicolai  was  dead.  And  it  was  Nicolai's  story 
Raleigh  was  re-telling,  and  Nicolai's  revenge  he 
was  promising  himself  openly  the  pleasure  to  per 
form. 

The  Senator  was  complimenting  her  on  her  rapt 
attention  — 

"  I  am  always  a  good  listener, —  I  attend  very 
well,  always,"  she  said,  with  a  dry  throat  that 
made  her  words  sound  strangely  to  herself. 

"  But  to  your  own  husband  ?  "  archly. 

"  Ah  yes,  I  hear  my  husband  speak  at  length  but 
seldom, —  and  after,  we  women  abroad  are  not  ex- 


WINTER  OF  THEIR  DISCONTENT      139 

pected  to  be  able  to  talk,  as  your  women  who  are 
so  talented.  We  try  to  look  as  charming  as  the 
good  God  permits,  and  for  the  rest  we  listen." 

And  the  eyes  of  the  Senator  and  those  of  the 
Railroad  King  met,  with  an  expression  of  "  here 
at  last  is  a  woman !  "  an  involuntary  betrayal  of 
all  those  principles  of  the  liberated  sex  enunciated 
by  both. 

"  Nicolai  is  dead " —  Stephanie  repeated  to 
herself  as  she  looked  in  her  glass  in  her  own  room, 
to  satisfy  herself  she  had  not  lost  colour.  "  Eh 
bien!  He  Is  dead,  and  I  was  once  so  mad  over 
him!  What  imbeciles  of  passion  we  both  were 
'  autre  fois ' !  And  how  the  Countess,  my  grand 
mother,  was  wise  to  protect  me  from  a  false  step! 
It  was  all  her  inspiration, —  our  marriage  at  Aix 
out  of  season,  with  no  public  to  assist,  and  after, 
—  no  clue  in  the  name  of  Mrs.  Raleigh  Payne. 
Dieu,  but  what  a  precipice  opening  to-night!  Ra 
leigh  must  never  repeat  that  story  of  Belgrade, — 
and  how  to  prevent  him?  How  to  take  it  from 
him,  like  a  new  toy  from  a  child,  without  arous 
ing  his  suspicion  ?  "  She  knew  but  too  well  that 
any  stranger,  without  intending  evil,  on  hearing 
this  recital  might  speak  the  name  of  the  Countess 
Stephanie  Marie  Louise  Graubach  von  Lichten- 
berg, —  then  all  was  lost.  Raleigh  had  exagger 
ated  her  relation  with  Nicolai,  but  he  would  believe 
the  worst,  as  Nicolai  had  evidently  intended  him 


140  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

to.  That  had  been  the  silent  revenge  of  a  lover 
betrayed  but  adoring,  even  in  the  hour  of  death. 
To  tell  Raleigh?  To  make  an  end  of  this  terror, 
perhaps  imaginary  ?  "  No,  a  thousand  times !  To 
him,  in  spite  of  all  I  could  say,  I  should  be  guilty. 
He  would  never  believe  me  innocent ! "  Her  so 
phistication  protested.  She  judged  him  from  a 
foreign  standard,  without  reckoning  on  the  confi 
dence  Americans  place  in  those  they  love,  and 
shrank  from  the  inevitable  result  as  she  conceived 
it.  The  help  of  a  Priest,  of  holy  counsel  and  di 
rection,  appealed  to  her  irresistibly.  She  knew 
from  Sister  Angela  that  one  of  the  Convent  Con 
fessors  had  been  sent  to  assist  in  establishing  a 
French  parochial  school  in  America.  But  how  to 
reach  him?  How  to  elude  Raleigh's  restrictions 
without  exposing  herself  doubly  to  his  displeasure  ? 
These  were  the  conflicting  fears  that  would  not 
let  her  sleep,  even  after  the  street  cleaners  began 
their  scuffling  noises  outside  her  carefully  shielded 
windows. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   WHITE  SWALLOW 

THE  winter  had  been  one  of  constant,  chang 
ing,  and  progressive  excitement  to  Ra 
leigh.  The  announcement  of  the  forth 
coming  volume  of  poems,  however  stoutly  he  dis 
claimed  them,  established  him  as  a  social  lion 
within  the  inner  circle  of  Ihe  literary  elite,  quite 
apart  from  and  unrelated  to  iiis  larger  interests. 

Stephanie  had  thrown  herself  into  the  pageant 
of  their  triumphal  procession,  with  a  grace  that 
demanded  not,  if  it  was  to  eventually  lead  up  to 
Parnassus  itself,  or  some  sacrificial  pyre.  She 
knew  her  part  and  played  it  to  perfection.  Ra 
leigh  felt  she  had  forgotten  or  laid  aside  her  sum 
mer's  pique,  and  in  return  did  all  that  lay  in  his 
power  to  please  her, —  even  to  dropping  his  fa 
vourite  story  from  his  repertoire  and  foregoing  the 
applause  it  always  won,  since  she  disliked  the  repu 
tation  of  "  raconteur,"  that  she  pronounced  an  in 
ferior  gift  for  a  man  of  distinction.  He  had  en 
tire  confidence  in  her  taste,  and  if  she  declared 
story-telling  a  bore,  he  was  ready  to  accept  her 
verdict  and  adopt  the  finer  art  of  conversation. 

'*  It  is  not  really  comme  il  faut  to  monopolise,  is 
141 


142  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

it  ?  "  she  had  asked  indifferently.  It  set  him  think 
ing  until  her  next  remark, — "  One  is  much  im 
pressed  with  the  American's  custom  of  speaking 
all  the  time  of  himself  and  his  experience,  because 
in  Europe  one  holds  oneself  more,  as  the  French 
say, —  one  does  not  confide  too  much.  That  is 
why  the  American  in  society  fails  of  the  chic,  the 
distinguished  silence  of  the  man  who  is  well-born 
abroad." 

He  had  raised  no  discussion  and  made  no  de 
fence.  He  saw  her  point  too  clearly  for  that;  so 
clearly  that  he  acted  upon  it,  much  to  his  own  ad 
vantage.  His  manner  gained,  applauded  by  her 
with  consummate  flattery  after  each  occasion  where 
the  fatal  story  remained  untold,  and  he  allowed 
other  men  to  make  an  effort  to  amuse  and  capture 
him;  a  change  in  attitude  that  duly  impressed  it 
self  upon  the  keen  observers  about  him,  who  noted 
his  quiet  assurance  as  that  of  a  man  who  had 
reached  his  goal  and  was  beyond  need  of  them. 
As  Stephanie  had  foreseen,  it  added  to  his  prestige, 
beside  calming  her  own  apprehensions  that  stalked 
in  alarming  numbers  in  the  darkest  hours  before 
the  dawn. 

Raleigh  and  herself,  to  look  upon,  were  as  blithe 
a  young  vision  as  ever  strayed  out  of  the  golden 
age  to  smile  down  from  a  chariot  upon  an  applaud 
ing  populace.  Circumstances  of  course  involved 
them  in  widely  divergent  ways.  They  did  not  keep 


THE  WHITE  SWALLOW  143 

the  same  hours  or  the  same  engagements,  nor 
could  he  be  said  to  keep  any  hours  at  all;  coming 
and  going  as  he  was,  meshed  in  labyrinths  of  ap 
pointments  and  important  conjunctions  with  other 
equally  hurried  and  ambitious  men,  all  dovetailing 
equally  exacting  demands  on  time  and  strength. 
So  that  his  request  to  be  admitted  at  the  door  of 
her  own  sleeping  room,  one  February  night,  or 
morning  rather,  for  it  was  between  two  and  three 
by  the  clock,  took  her  quite  by  surprise. 

He  never  had  realised  the  strain  he  had  put  upon 
her,  until  to-night.  Measured  by  his  own  it  was 
slight,  but  as  she  stood,  half  bewildered  by  the 
sound  of  his  voice,  in  her  pale  rose  peignoir,  her 
soft  hair  falling  back  from  her  face,  she  looked  like 
a  weary  child. 

"  Are  you  ill,  Raleigh  ?  What  has  happened  ?  " 
she  asked,  frightened  as  by  an  apparition.  It  re 
vealed  at  a  glance  the  distance  betwen  them.  It 
embarrassed  him  also.  "When  did  you  return?" 
she  asked  again,  as  he  did  not  explain  his  pres 
ence. 

"  May  I  come  in  a  moment  ?  "  he  said,  trying  to 
conceal  his  chagrin  at  his  own  discovery,  "  I  am 
obliged  to  go  on  to  Washington  sooner  than  I  ex 
pected  and  by  a  much  earlier  train  than  usual.  I 
told  you  I  should  not  go  until  later,  but  I  find  I 
cannot  keep  any  of  to-morrow's  engagements  here. 
You  will  explain  for  me  ?  Please  be  especially  gra- 


144  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

cious  to  Christine  about  her  luncheon  for  she  made 
it  instead  of  a  dinner  on  my  account." 

She  drew  back  to  allow  him  to  pass  into  the 
room.  The  mere  necessity  of  taking  his  directions 
assured  her  and  set  her  at  ease. 

"  I  will  search  my  engagement  book  for  the 
others, — "  she  said,  "  there  were  also  guests  for 
dinner  here,  I  believe." 

They  ran  over  the  list  together.  When  they  had 
finished,  he  did  not  go. 

"  That  is  all  ?  "  she  suggested  gently. 

"  Not  quite,"  he  said,  and  she  noticed  his  eager 
ness.  She  had  never  seen  him  so  excited,  so  little 
master  of  himself  as  in  the  first  days  of  his  court 
ship.  She  saw  then  that  he  held  a  book  in  his  left 
hand,  which  he  now  held  out  to  her.  As  he  did 
so,  he  stepped  over  by  the  bed  and  turned  on  the 
reading  light  invitingly.  She  took  the  volume  from 
him  and  opened  at  once  to  the  title  page. 

"  You  like  the  cover  ?  "  he  asked.  He  could  not 
wait. 

"  It  is  in  perfect  taste,"  she  assured  him  warmly. 

"  Of  course  with  poetry  as  with  music,  it  is  the 
sound  of  the  instrument  not  the  case  that  matters, 
—  still  — "  he  was  boyish  in  his  desire  to  know  if 
she  was  pleased.  He  wanted  her  to  admit  him 
supreme  on  all  sides. 

"  Music  is  said  to  be  the  sound  of  the  soul,"  she 
said  slowly,  "  poetry  is  the  prayer,  perhaps.  It 


THE  WHITE  SWALLOW  145 

was  charming  of  you  to  bring  them  to  me  first  of 
all." 

He  kissed  her  warmly.  It  seemed  to  her  that 
he  kissed  himself  in  her,  and  his  joy  in  this  new 
evidence  of  his  own  power,  more  than  Stephanie. 
She  missed  any  sense  of  losing  himself  in  the 
caress,  any  letting  go  to  the  influence  of  the  em 
brace. 

He  took  the  book  from  her  again,  "  Read  the  in 
scription,"  he  begged,  opening  it  for  her.  Shfe 
read  it  in  a  flash,  then  without  lifting  her  eyes 
from  the  page  "  One  could  persuade  oneself  that 
it  was  inspired  by  love, —  even  passion,  and  the  ob 
ject  of  that  passion  a  woman  " —  she  said  as  if  in 
credulous, —  half  mocking  the  intensity  of  his  mood 
which  she  did  not  understand. 

"  And  one  would  not  be  mistaken !  "  he  cried. 

She  allowed  him  to  come  close  to  her  and  look 
over  her  shoulder,  as  she  turned  the  pages  at  ran 
dom,  half  seeing  the  words,  careless  of  more  than 
a  first  casual  impression.  He  watched  her  face 
kindling  here  and  there  at  a  line  whose  import  she 
seemed  to  divine  rather  than  fully  comprehend. 

He  caught  at  it  as  a  hint  of  her  pleasure  in  this 
evidence  of  his  devotion.  "  Stephanie  darling,  listen 
to  me  for  a  few  minutes  to-night,  before  I  am 
obliged  to  go.  There  is  so  much  to  make  us  happy 
to-night!  You  are  narrow  about  love.  There  are 
so  many  kinds,  and  so  many  ways  of  showing  it! 


146  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

And  you  have  been  determined  there  should  be  but 
one.  If  a  man  writes  a  volume  of  lyrics  in  praise 
of  the  woman  he  loves,  it  is  really  no  more  than 
any  one  of  a  dozen  equally  real,  if  not  equally  pas 
sionate,  expressions  of  feeling  for  which  she  is  re 
sponsible.  She  is  no  more  the  inspiration  of  his 
poetry  than  of  his  schemes  of  finance,  or  the  suc 
cess  of  a  national  intrigue.  It  is  all  hers  and  for 
her  and  because  of  her." 

"  Perhaps " —  she  said  doubtfully,  raising  her 
eyes  slowly  to  his,  "  but  in  a  language  here  more 
natural  to  a  woman's  heart." 

"  Then  if  all  my  other  plans  to  make  you  proud 
count  as  nothing,  you  will  accept  the  lyrics,  with 
my  dedication  to  you,  in  love  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  proud  and  happy  to  imagine  that  af 
ter  three  years  of  married  partnership,  an  Ameri 
can  has  still  the  sentiment  remaining  to  offer  any 
woman, —  and  that  woman  in  this  case  his  legally 
wedded  wife ! "  she  replied,  still  mocking  at  his 
earnestness. 

She  turned  back  to  the  title  page  with  its  equivo 
cal  inscription,  as  if  to  escape  his  mood  which  she 
failed  to  fully  share  or  understand.  Aloud  she 
repeated  "  Lyrics  of  an  Unknown."  "  Edited  by 
Raleigh  Payne." 

"  And  you  alone  out  of  all  the  world  hold  the 
key  to  the  secret !  "  he  cried  impulsively.  "  The 
world  is  at  liberty  to  guess, —  it  is  to  be  expected 


THE  WHITE  SWALLOW  147 

that  no  denial  from  me  can  prevent  pretty  conclu 
sive  surmise,  but  you  alone  know  why  they  are  too 
sacred  to  brand  with  a  name.  The  hidden  beauty 
of  a  woman  is  beyond  desecration  of  her  poet's 
word  even,  as  her  soul  is  beyond  his  faintest  caress. 
How  could  a  poet  keep  silence  who  had  loved 
you  ? "  He  kissed  her  on  her  mouth.  She 
trembled  slightly.  He  felt  instantly  that  she  was 
right  and  he  had  been  stupid  to  be  so  embarrassed 
and  make  a  scene  with  his  own  wife  in  his  own 
house,  although  the  hour  was  unconventional,  even 
compromising.  How  many  weeks  had  they  pre 
served  their  formality  with  each  other?  How  long 
since  their  mutual  play  had  been  exclusively  for 
the  gallery?  After  all,  it  was  not  strange  that 
they  were  constrained  by  finding  themselves  alone 
together  under  the  unique  conditions  associated 
with  their  earlier  tenderness.  Whose  eyes  were 
sweet  as  hers  ?  To  whom  did  that  weary  mouth  owe 
its  tribute,  but  to  him?  How  often  she  had  told 
him  she  was  made  for  love, —  and  was  he  an  Ere 
mite?  To-night  it  was  important, —  it  was  neces 
sary,  that  she  should  love  him  too  blindly  to  re 
member  his  words  or  forget  his  emotion.  He 
wanted  her  to  lose  herself  in  him,  to  save  only  his 
awakened  sense  of  her. 

He  held  her  now  with  the  old  passion.  She  did 
not  resist.  He  thought  the  old  storm  of  instinct 
had  caught  her  too,  and  that  she  relaxed  in 


148  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

his  embrace  as  if  yielding  to  long  pent  emotion. 

"  Stephanie,"  he  murmured,  "  forgive  me !  I 
have  been  a  fool.  I  have  made  other  gods  before 
you.  I  have  broken  Love's  first  and  greatest  com 
mandment,  perhaps,  but  it  was  for  you!  Love  is 
after  all  such  a  many-sided  and  practical  thing  to 
me.  It  is  myself  going  to  your  day's  pastime 
through  you,  and  you  going  to  my  work  in  me. 
I  wanted  to  make  a  career  fit  for  you  to  share  and 
the  competition  is  beyond  your  wildest  dream.  I 
have  never  forgotten  the  indignities  heaped  upon 
me  by  the  old  Countess,  your  grandmother,  or 
the  humiliations  she  forced  me  to  accept  as  the 
price  of  her  niece.  I  have  sworn,  day  and  night, 
to  raise  a  pedestal  fit  for  so  peerless  a  creature  as 
my  wife.  You  have  been  wonderful !  You  have 
helped  me  and  never  cried  out,  or  blamed  me  or 
questioned  my  right  to  use  you  for  our  mutual 
ends.  But  to-night  I  see  what  I  have  done.  How 
it  has  wearied  you,  and  how  you  have  suffered  from 
not  fully  understanding  me!  Forgive  me  darling, 
and  let  us  get  over  a  few  weeks  more  only,  and  I 
will  take  you  away  from  business  and  politics  and 
we  will  go  back  to  some  lovely  spot  of  our  honey 
moon,  and  be  lovers  again.  Shall  we  ?  " 

She  knew  the  necessity  of  asserting  her  power 
over  him  now.  Her  eyes  were  half  shut  as  she 
clung  to  him.  in  silence.  He  took  it  for  acquiescence. 
In  her  love  moods,  speech  was  always  alien  to  her. 


THE  WHITE  SWALLOW  149 

With  something  of  desperation,  like  a  child  left 
too  long  in  the  dark  alone,  she  sobbed  herself  to 
sleep  in  his  arms  at  last.  The  numb  loneliness 
broken  and  a  softened  comprehension  established 
between  them  without  words.  He  left  her  reluc 
tantly,  still  asleep,  and  crept  away  to  work  until 
daylight  and  catch  his  early  train  southward. 

Stephanie  wakened  late.  Waking  was  the  event 
of  all  the  day  she  always  dreaded  most.  This 
morning  she  wakened  with  a  consciousness  of 
something  having  happened.  What  was  it?  Had 
she  really  a  Lover?  Husband  he  might  also  be, 
yet  capable  of  giving  to  life  the  one  meaning  with 
out  which,  to  women  like  her,  it  has  no  reason  for 
being.  She  lay  in  a  vaguely  remembering  state,  half 
dream,  half  realisation,  letting  the  emotions  of  the 
night  revive  again  in  the  senses.  Until  with  this 
thrill  of  reassurance  of  Raleigh's  feeling  for  her, 
came  the  terror  again,  and  expedience  was  imme 
diately  pleading  for  full  confession.  If  Raleigh 
did  love  her,  even  in  his  cold  American  way, —  in 
absence  and  repression, —  surely  he  would  condone 
the  innocent  passion  of  her  first  inexperience.  She 
owed  it  to  herself,  to  be  rid  of  the  fear  that  lay 
between  them,  since  he  had  given  her  this  proof  of 
his  indisputably  sincere  devotion.  He  spoke  of 
Europe  again,  together  and  soon.  How  could  she 
hazard  Europe  with  exposure  menacing  her  there 
at  every  street  corner,  where  they  might  encounter 


ISO  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

ghosts  of  the  past?  If  the  future  was  to  be  love 
between  them  she  must  remove  this  black  beast  from 
her  path.  His  honour  was  his  fetish.  But  she 
would  swear  to  him  Nicolai  had  lied  in  his  desire 
to  inflict  a  wound  upon  him  who  stole  her  away 
from  Austria  and  her  girlish  promises.  She  would 
stake  everything  on  the  intoxication  of  his  senses, 
she  would  even  abase  herself,  be  submissive,  any 
thing  to  vindicate  herself  and  set  herself  free  from 
this  haunting  dread  of  losing  all  she  had  won  so 
dearly  of  place  and  power,  and  now  the  hope  of 
passion,  which  to  her  was  life's  only  prize.  She 
would  do  it  in  Raleigh's  arms, —  she  knew  when 
and  how.  He  should  believe  her  as  proud,  as 
stainless  as  himself.  Then  let  the  world  howl,  it 
could  do  her  no  harm. 

It  was  not  until  just  before  she  was  leaving  the 
house  for  luncheon, —  the  luncheon  planned  for 
Raleigh's  convenience,  to  meet  some  foreign 
friends  at  the  house  of  Christine,  that  she  actually 
opened  the  volume  of  poems  again,  about  which  her 
thoughts  constantly  circled  as  she  dressed. 

The  English  verse  was  too  difficult  for  her  to 
fully  enjoy.  She  began  to  read,  translating  into 
French  to  be  sure  she  got  the  meaning. 

"  Si  dans  la  mort  mon  ame  — "  she  read,  then 
vexed  with  herself,  made  a  little  gesture  of  impa 
tience,  chiding  herself  for  not  trying  to  enjoy  or 
at  least  comprehend  in  English. 


THE  WHITE  SWALLOW  151 

"  If  I  in  death  outwing  the  fleet  white  swallow." 

"  L'  hirondelle  blanche  " —  her  heart  echoed  — 
She  stood  transfixed,  scarcely  breathing.  I  do 
not  understand!  What  does  it  signify?  she  asked 
herself  in  vain.  She  read  on,  pale,  then  flushed, 
as  one  under  the  influence  of  some  hidden  spell. 
Nothing  since  her  marriage  had  spoken  to  her  like 
this.  Raleigh  as  a  poet  was  also  a  lover,  a  new 
possibility,  a  sixth  sense.  And  yet  why  did  some 
of  these  lines  of  his  sound  of  the  sea  reverberating 
afar  off  but  persistent?  If  this  was  indeed  Ra 
leigh,  her  lover  as  he  would  have  her  believe, 
speaking  to  her,  singing  of  her,  life  was  not  over 
but  just  begun.  Yet  what  strangely  familiar 
rhythm  was  it  that  haunted  her,  lingering  yet  van 
ishing?  She  was  increasingly  confused  until  just 
that  one  of  the  poems  she  had  last  read,  by  its 
oddity  of  form  and  beat,  came  back  to  her  entirely 
in  French,  though  she  had  but  glanced  at  the  first 
two  lines. 

"  Si  dans  la  mort  mon  ame  " 

then  disconnected  phrases,  "  1'  hirondelle  blanche  " 
— "  les  ailles  pales  " —  while  about  her  whispered 
the  accents  of  the  moonlit  waves.  Whose  voice 
but  Nicolai's  was  this  at  her  ear?  Whose  hand 
but  his  on  the  bridle  of  her  white  steed,  forced 
trembling  and  rearing  into  the  August  flood  until 


152  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

the  foam  broke  about  her,  lapping  as  some  fawn 
ing  creature  luring  its  prey?  It  had  been  his  to 
project  just  that  wild  ride  outwinging  the  white 
swallow  of  death,  and  his  in  abject  terror  to  drag 
her  back  to  life  and  misery.  Why  did  she  feel 
the  soft  sinuous  body  of  her  horse  under  her  now? 
Why  was  it  Normandie  and  no  longer  America? 
Suddenly  the  room  became  too  light.  Everything 
that  had  been  clouded,  became  at  once  transparent. 
She  saw  and  understood.  Her  secret  was  to  re 
main  forever  her  own.  There  need  be  no  confes 
sion  of  it.  She  knew  that,  first  of  all.  She  knew 
also  why  it  would  always  be  so.  Her  own  safety 
was  now  for  ever  and  ever  assured.  She  knew  also 
why  she  despised  her  husband,  the  smiling,  popu 
lar,  successful  Raleigh  Payne,  the  poet  and  diplo 
mat.  Well  let  him  smile, —  since  it  was  the  seal 
set  upon  their  mutual  freedom.  "  Lache ! "  she 
whispered,  "  one  would  respect  him  more  if  he 
had  the  courage  to  steal  outright !  "  Out  of  all 
the  world  there  was  but  one  who  could  read  the 
carefully  veiled  translations  of  that  lyric  volume, 
and  recognise  the  originals  as  the  poems  breathed 
forth  to  her  at  the  full  moon  and  flood  tide  of 
Nicolai  Heathleagh's  midsummer  madness.  Ra 
leigh  Payne  had  veiled  his  treachery  to  the  dead 
man  with  all  possible  skill.  He  had  reduced  his 
own  risk  to  a  minimum  and  accepted  it,  trusting  his 
lucky  star  to  keep  one  woman  lost  in  oblivion.  And 


THE  WHITE  SWALLOW  153 

that  one  woman  was  to  be  found  upon  his  own 
breast. 

"  II  faut  qu'il  ne  sache  pas !  Jamais,  jamais 
jusqu'  a  la  mort ! "  she  murmured.  "  All  that 
I  know  he  must  never  suspect  that  I  dream. 
The  person  that  shares  his  secret  he  will  hate  for 
it,  because  it  is  an  unworthy  one.  It  remains  now 
to  enact  the  drama  together,  only.  It  is  not  life 
we  shall  live.  It  is  not  love.  It  is  the  tragi-com- 
edy  of  two, —  the  man  and  his  wife !  " 

"The  motor,  if  you  please,  Mrs.  Payne,"  the 
butler  announced,  as  she  still  stood  motionless,  with 
the  lyrics  yet  open  in  her  hand  at  the  page  where 
she  had  first  read. 

"  If  I  in  death  outwing  the  fleet  white  swallow  — " 

her  own  heart  undulating  upon  the  waves  of  her 
Normandie  beneath  an  August  moon.  And  she  went 
down  the  marble  stairway,  crossed  the  regal  hall 
and  entered  the  limousine,  as  an  actress  through 
the  wings  of  a  stage  to  her  next  appearance  before 
the  footlights,  with  the  cry  of  Voltaire  in  her  soul, 

"Lisbonne  est  abime  et  Ton  danse  a  Paris!" 


CHAPTER  IX 

"  SOME  LITTLE  TALK  OF   ME  AND  THEE  " 

MRS.  PAYNE  wishes,  if  convenient, 
you  would  come  down  to  tea,  sir." 
The  butler  delivered  the  message  at 
the  door  of  Raleigh's  own  especial  sanctum  on  the 
third  floor  where  he  carried  on  his  private  and  im 
portant  affairs. 

"  Presently,"  he  replied,  then  turning  back  to  his 
secretary,  "  Just  run  these  over,  and  do  them  as 
you  have  the  others,  Miss  Macy.  I  will  sign  them, 
of  course,  later." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Payne." 

"  And  never  mind  about  those  marked  with  a 
cross, —  and  these  on  the  left  you  may  destroy, 
after  glancing  them  over  to  be  sure,  in  my  hurry 
I  have  not  overlooked  anything  important.  That 
is  all  in  connection  with  this  morning's  mail,  in  a 
literary  way,  is  it  not?  " 

"  There  is  the  answer  to  Horace  Weeden,  in  re 
gard  to  collaborating  with  him  in  a  five  act  tragedy 
for  the  New  Theatre,  sir." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"  No,  Mr.  Payne,  there  are  the  lyrics  Miss  Kem- 
per  sent  for  your  criticism,  and  Mrs.  Oliver 

154 


"SOME  TALK  OF  ME  AND  THEE"      155 

Brown's  letter,  asking  advice  as  to  whether  you 
thought  she  had  better  go  on  with  novel  writing 
or  try  a  dramatic  play  for  acting  purposes."  The 
secretary  spoke  in  that  singularly  colourless  voice, 
untinged  with  any  sentiment  whatever,  of  one  so 
long  accustomed  to  doing  other  people's  affairs  for 
them  that  nothing  was  ever  personal. 

"  What  else  ?  "  Raleigh  spoke  in  response  to  her 
uplifted  hand,  showing  still  another  bunch  of  en 
velopes  he  had  not  seen  before. 

"  A  request  for  permission  to  dedicate  a  lyric 
drama  to  you,  and  seven  letters  asking  for  an  auto 
graph,  with  or  without  quotation;  two  copies  of 
the  Lyrics  to  be  signed  and  three  of  the  Hesse 
photographs  to  be  autographed,  and " —  Raleigh 
laughed  outright,  "  Well,  well  we  are  celebrated !  " 
he  exclaimed.  "  We  really  are !  The  editor  of  the 
Lyrics  is,  I  mean.  He  is  to  be  congratulated  on 
his  estimate  of  the  world's  curiosity.  The  Secre 
tary  flushed  as  if  she  could  not  bear  to  hear  him 
belittle  himself  even  to  her. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Payne,  the  Lyrics  have  made  a  new 
mark  in  American  literature,"  she  protested. 
"  There  has  never  been  anything  like  them. 
Everyone  sees  through  the  editorial  bluff.  That  is 
the  reason  they  all  write  for  your  signature.  You 
ought  not  to  be  surprised.  No  one  else  is!  I  am 
holding  ever  so  many  other  appeals  for  your  deci 
sion  when  you  can  give  me  the  time  to  attend  to 


156  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

them.  The  Woman's  Column  of  the  '  Busybody ' 
wants  a  copy  of  your  favourite  poems.  The 
'  Times '  Supplement  will  take  an  item  on  your 
summer  plans  and  what  you  intend  to  write  next. 
'  Poetry-in-America '  wants  an  article  of  four 
thousand  words  on  '  How  to  Write  Poetry  That 
Burns  at  the  Heart.'  The  '  Literary  Advocate ' 
wants  both  a  sitting  and  standing  picture  for  re 
production,  and  Ammede,  the  photographer  for 
'  Celebrity,'  wants  you  to  give  him  a  sitting  at 
your  earliest  possible  convenience,  beside  all  the 
other  personal  interviews  I  have  refused,  as  you 
told  me  to  do,  without  speaking  to  you  about  them." 

"  You  don't  say  the  poems  are  as  bad  as  all 
that !  "  he  said,  really  serious  now.  "  What  do  you 
think  of  them  yourself, —  that  is,  if  you  have  read 
them?" 

"  I  never  read  anything  like  them,"  the  girl  said 
unhesitatingly.  "  They  make  me  feel  alive  all 
over,  just  like  wine.  It  is  another  world !  "  But 
he  was  already  at  the  door. 

"  You  are  prejudiced ! "  he  warned  her  gaily, 
"  but  I  will  tell  the  real  author  when  I  see  him. 
Meantime,  get  in  another  girl  to  help  you.  I  can 
not  spare  a  minute  of  Reardon.  He  has  his  hands 
over-full  of  business  matters  just  now."  He  would 
have  been  gone  but  the  man  at  the  typewriter  called 
him  back. 

"  One  moment,  Mr.  Payne !     You  said  to  remind 


"SOME  TALK  OF  ME  AND  THEE"      157 

you  that  you  wished  to  revise  your  letter  apropos 
of  your  diplomatic  reappointment  and  the  govern 
ment  offer." 

"  Later !  "  Raleigh  promised,  as  he  ran  down  the 
stairs. 

"  That  is  what  it  is  to  be  famous,"  said  the  girl, 
holding  up  the  photographs. 

"  Never  saw  anything  like  it  in  my  life ! "  said 
Reardon,  a  man  with  steely  eyes  and  no  colour  in 
his  face.  "  He  wants  the  earth,  and  when  he  gets 
it  he  will  try  for  the  stars !  " 

"  He  will  get  them,  too,"  the  secretary  agreed, 
"  and  put  them  under  Mrs.  Payne's  feet,  with  all 
the  rest.  She  does  not  begin  to  appreciate  him." 

"  No  woman  could,"  said  Reardon.  "  Any  other 
man  would  be  a  politician  or  a  business  man  and 
done  with  it.  He  is  up  to  his  neck  in  both,  and 
in  the  thick  of  it  all  he  has  to  get  this  literary  bee 
in  his  bonnet!  And  that  has  given  him  a  hand  up 
in  a  new  quarter.  He  can  have  whatever  he  wants 
now." 

"  He  is  a  genius  all  right,"  said  the  girl  with  a 
sigh  as  if  she  regretted  the  admission  as  soon  as  it 
was  made. 

"  He  is  a  politician  all  the  same,"  objected  Rear 
don,  pushing  back  his  chair  with  a  long  tired  yawn 
and  crossing  over  for  a  new  supply  of  paper. 

"  He  is  a  gentleman,  any  way ! "  cried  the  girl 
cordially,  remembering  the  volume  of  Lyrics  pre- 


158  THE  SIN  OF  'ANGELS 

sented  to  her  with  her  patron's  signature  and  a 
pleasant  word  of  gratitude  for  her  assistance. 

"  That's  right,  too,"  agreed  Reardon.  "  He  sent 
his  own  car  to  take  mother  to  church  the  Sunday 
she  spent  in  town  with  me,"  and  again  the  two 
typewriters  clicked  all  the  faster  for  the  intermis 
sion.  During  the  first  pause  Reardon  took  it  up 
again,  with  — 

"  But  I  should  never  have  believed  he  had  it  in 
him  to  write  like  that !  " 

Miss  Macy  was  phrasing  a  difficult  sentence  and 
made  no  reply. 

The  tea  hour  at  the  Paynes  was  becoming  a 
function  every  afternoon.  From  its  cosy  niche  by 
the  library  fire  it  had  moved  down  to  a  formal  in 
stallation  in  the  drawing-room.  Stephanie  no 
longer  made  a  pretense  of  pouring  it  herself  and 
even  had  in  an  extra  man  to  supplement  the  serv 
ants  of  the  house.  To-day  everyone  had  explained 
his  or  her  coming  by  the  natural  desire  to  be 
among  the  first  to  congratulate  Raleigh  on  his  suc 
cess  in  the  literary  arena. 

The  book  was  not  as  yet  out  a  week  and  had 
gone  into  a  second  edition.  Everybody  was  talk 
ing  about  it,  and  more  astonishing  to  relate,  buy 
ing  it.  Poetry,  the  Nazarene  art,  was  actually  sell 
ing!  Raleigh,  convicted  from  the  first,  had  merely 
smiled,  and  kept  his  own  counsel. 


"SOME  TALK  OF  ME  AND  THEE"      159 

"  I  always  say  that  your  enemies  buy  your  books, 
but  your  friends  borrow  them,"  young  Emmons 
was  saying,  as  Raleigh  entered.  "  Most  women 
will  spend  five  dollars  worth  of  oil  running  the  mo 
tor  to  a  public  library  for  a  novel,  instead  of  de 
cently  buying  one.  It  is  one  of  their  pet  forms 
of  economy." 

"  I  remember  when  Bob's  book  first  came  out, 
I  went  paying  visits  on  every  one  I  knew,  just  to 
see  if  it  was  on  people's  tables,"  cried  a  pretty 
little  woman  buried  in  brown  furs. 

"  Yes,  it  got  to  be  a  regular  game  of  hunt-the- 
book,"  said  her  husband,  laughing  at  the  recollec 
tion.  "  And  about  as  successful  as  fox-hunting 
an  anise  seed  bag  in  most  cases,  too." 

"  It  is  a  material  age,"  interrupted  pretty  Mrs. 
Maltby,  quoting  her  husband,  and  well-satisfied 
with  the  platitude.  She  looked  regretful  as  she 
said  it,  and  drew  her  faultless  figure  up  com 
placently  to  free  her  gown  from  a  possible 
wrinkle. 

Manice  Brown  took  Raleigh's  hand  with  marked 
sympathy  denoting  fellow  feeling,  though  to  him 
success  for  another  was  bitter  fruit.  "  I  have  seen 
your  little  volume."  he  said.  "  You  must  be  glad  to 
get  it  out  of  your  way.  Think  of  me,  with  three 
of  my  own  coming  out  next  year ! " 

"  Really !  "  interposed  old  Mrs.  Malcomber,  mov 
ing  to  join  them,  and  also  shaking  hands  with  Ra- 


160  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

leigh,  forgetting  she  had  already  done  so.     "  And 
who  are  your  publishers  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  fully  decided,"  he  parried,  as  if 
pressed  to  choose.  "  There  is  something  to  be 
said  for  several  of  the  best  houses." 

"  What  are  the  titles  ?  "  Mrs.  Malcomber  in  pur 
suit  was  not  to  be  evaded. 

"  I  never  definitely  entitle  them  until  they  are 
about  to  appear.  One's  titles  are  so  apt  to  be 
snatched  away  from  one.  One  volume  is  to  be 
made  up  of  essays,  and  another  a  collection  of 
poems  on  occasions  chiefly  historical,  and  the  third 
probably  a  novel — " 

"  But  they  are  already  finished,  I  suppose.  You 
said  they  were  to  appear  within  the  year  ?  " 

"  They  are  not  written  out  yet,  but  I  intend  to 
take  the  summer  for  that.  I  have  them  all  in  the 
back  of  my  head,"  he  assured  her  jauntily. 

"In  contemplation,  I  understand  you  to  mean?" 

"  It  is  practically  the  same  thing,"  he  said  con 
tentedly.  "  They  are  all  done  but  writing." 

"  Ah  yes,  like  the  lives  of  some  famous  men, — 
all  done  but  living,"  she  said  tersely,  turning  aside. 

"  O  Mr.  Payne,  do  come  here!  "  begged  the  wife 
of  an  editor  of  New  York's  most  exclusive 
monthly,  a  woman  with  a  deep  contralto  voice,  who 
was  always  rushing  from  place  to  place,  knowing 
and  making  allowance  for  every  one  indiscrimi 
nately.  "  Why  on  earth  don't  you  write  a  novel  ?  " 


"  SOME  TALK  OF  ME  AND  THEE  "      161 

"  Probably  because  he  is  a  poet,"  said  Mrs.  Mai- 
comber  disdainfully. 

"  But  you  seem  to  feel  so  much,  it  ought  to 
make  a  splendid  novel,"  continued  the  first  speaker, 
regardless  of  interruption.  "  Write  a  serial  about 
all  the  society  people  in  New  York,  and  hint  at  all 
you  know  behind  the  scenes.  I  will  get  it  accepted. 
I  am  sure  you  could  do  it !  " 

"Just  came  in  to  congratulate  you,  Mr.  Payne," 
Professor  Gyer  was  saying.  "  I  remember  when 
my  history  of  the  Persian  race  was  published,  it 
also  went  into  a  second  edition  within  a  fortnight, 

—  in  cheaper  form  of  course,  for  library  and  school 
use.     The  publishers  had  never  had  such  an  experi 
ence  with  a  solid  work.     They  were  amazed,  sim 
ply  amazed  that  a  work,  not  a  work  of  fiction  by  a 
standard  author,  could  have  met  with  such  a  re 
ception  ! " 

"  Who  is  that  with  Aubrey  Jones  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Malcomber,  raising  her  lorgnette  as  two  men  en 
tered  the  room,  one  a  well  known  essayist  and 
with  him  an  oldish  man  with  the  undeniable  ab 
sent-minded  manner  of  the  scholar. 

"  Mr.  Payne,  I  want  you  to  meet  Dr.  Chemung  " 

—  Aubrey  Jones  was  saying,  "I  brought  him  in  to 
have  a  look  at  our  great  American  poet.     He  is 
an   authority  on   Greek  poetry  himself,  and   with 
the  poets  as  with  thieves,  it  takes  one  to  catch 
one!" 


162  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

Dr.  Chemung  shook  hands  stoutly,  but  his  eyes 
were  almost  immediately  riveted  on  Professor 
Gyer.  He  went  through  his  presentation  to  Ste 
phanie  in  briefest  formality.  His  mind  was  set  on 
Gyer  from  the  first  glance.  He  allowed  himself 
to  be  detained  merely  for  his  tea,  which  he  took 
with  cakes  arranged  in  scallops  round  the  rim  of 
his  plate,  laid  out  on  an  onyx  table  conveniently 
near,  as  if  he  had  found  himself  at  a  railway  junc 
tion. 

"  When  I  have  finished,  we  will  talk,"  he 
promised  Professor  Gyer  genially.  "  It  is  aston 
ishing  how  England  took  up  my  exegesis  of 
Homer  "— 

"  It  was  the  same  story  with  my  history  of  Per 
sia  " —  began  the  Professor.  And  it  was  immedi 
ately  a  duet  in  which  they  were  engaged,  neither 
listening  to  the  other,  and  neither  offended  by  the 
other's  interruption,  after  the  manner  of  great  and 
scholarly  men  quick  with  their  own  subject. 
Launched  forth  on  criticism  and  counter-criticism, 
classicism  and  the  true  spirit  of  modern  scholar 
ship,  they  were  confident  of  complete  sympathy, 
and  oblivious  of  the  fact  the  others  had  drifted 
away  and  left  them. 

"  Don't  interrupt  them.  They  are  talking  a 
'  twosome '  and  having  a  perfect  time,"  said  Chris 
tine.  She  was  looking  very  handsome  this  winter 
in  her  velvets  and  monstrous  picture  hats.  She 


"SOME  TALK  OF  ME  AND  THEE"      163 

had  been  at  no  pains  to  conceal  her  admiration  for 
Raleigh  or  his  success.  He  established  himself  by 
her  now,  with  the  air  of  having  waited  and  ob 
tained  his  reward,  in  the  re-setting  of  new  circles 
that  followed  upon  new  arrivals.  It  was  very 
pleasant  to  hear  her  exclamations  of  surprise  and 
satisfaction,  as  well  as  her  practical  way  of  esti 
mating  results  which  tallied  well  with  his  own. 

"  All  sold  out  again  at  Brentano's,"  she  told  him. 
"  You  are  a  wonder,  Raleigh !  "  And  perhaps  deep 
down  in  her  heart  beneath  the  diamond  sun-burst 
or  the  miniature  of  the  baby  set  in  pearls  which 
she  always  wore,  lurked  a  secret  envy  of  the 
woman  who  had  taken  this  paragon  from  her. 

"  What  a  stunning  friend  you  are  Chris ! "  he 
said  impulsively. 

"Am  I?" 

He  nodded  his  affirmative. 

"  What  is  a  friend,  I  wonder  ?  It  is  said  to  be 
a  person  to  whom  one  can  talk  about  oneself  with 
enjoyment.  I  ought  to  fulfil  that  definition,  to  you, 
Raleigh.  You  know  how  intensely  I  care  for 
every  step  ahead  you  and  Jim  gain.  You  knew  he 
was  going  to  have  the  Judgeship  he  wanted  ?  " 

"  He  owes  everything  he  is  to  you,"  Raleigh  said 
with  conviction.  "  A  man's  wife  is  part  of  him 
self,  but  it  may  be  the  part  that  helps  or  hinders." 

"  How  very  foreign  looking  Mrs.  Payne  is !  "  ex 
claimed  Mrs.  Morton  Smythe,  glancing  at  Ste- 


164  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

phanie,  and  timing  herself  by  a  bracelet  watch  as 
she  spoke,  beside  getting  in  her  own  effect  in  a 
long  mirror  opposite. 

"Yes,  perfectly  pre-Raphealite,  is  she  not?" 
chorused  another  young  woman,  a  bride  of  a  few 
weeks  only.  She  had  no  idea  what  she  meant, 
but  the  expression  sounded  as  Mrs.  Payne  looked, 
and  it  was  one  she  always  used  when  she  did  not 
know  what  she  really  did  mean  herself.  It  was 
confusingly  convincing  to  her  at  least. 

"  She  is  not  smart,  and  I  do  not  call  her  pretty, 
do  you  ?  "  Mrs.  Morton-Smythe  continued,  twitch 
ing  her  veil  into  more  fetching  lines. 

"No,"  admitted  the  bride  reluctantly,  "but  she 
always  seems  to  have  two  or  more  men  with  her. 
Even  Jack,  my  husband,  you  know,  considers  her 
interesting, —  that  is  in  a  way.  He  sat  by  her  at 
dinner  somewhere  and  mentioned  her  several  times 
afterward,  though  he  said  she  was  not  animated  or 
brilliant  conversationally  in  the  least." 

And  Stephanie, —  sitting  there  in  her  soft  cloud 
of  lace,  her  great  rings  weighing  down  her  frail 
hands,  the  hum  of  alien  speech  about  her,  of  whom 
was  she  thinking?  Of  Raleigh  Payne?  That 
same  Raleigh  Payne,  himself, —  was  his  heart  at 
flood-tide,  his  blood  stirred  to  its  depths  by  this 
newest  triumph?  Steven  Randall  alone  knew 
their  faces  well  enough  to  have  hazarded  a  guess, 
and  he  was  already  back  at  Sky  High,  tired  of  the 


"SOME  TALK  OF  ME  AND  THEE"      165 

town  and  its  noise,  where  one  remembers  less  easily 
than  in  the  country  silence  of  long  mornings  and 
lengthening  afternoons  with  purple  shadows  on 
the  parian  landscape. 

"  Your  own  family  are  all  literary,  are  they 
not?"  Aubrey  Jones  was  asking  Mrs.  Mayhew. 

"  Yes,  I  said  when  I  married  Dick,  I  was  thank 
ful  for  just  one  thing, —  and  that  was  that  I  was 
not  marrying  into  my  own  family !  "  she  cried.  "  I 
never  dreamed  of  his  taking  up  the  stage,  after 
ward." 

"  I  married  her  under  false  colours,"  confessed 
Dick  Mayhew.  "  She  won't  go  to  a  first  night  of 
any  of  my  plays  for  fear  of  failure  or  stage  thun 
der.  They  seem  to  be  her  two  nightmares." 

Externally  they  were  all  at  ease.  But  under 
neath  the  surface  were  there  those  hidden  emo 
tions,  like  strange  monsters  of  the  sea  that  crawl 
beneath  placid  waters?  Were  there  jealousies  and 
heart-burnings,  uncertainties  and  envyings  and  mis 
erable  fears  of  the  human  breast?  To  herself, 
Stephanie  was  thinking  over  and  over  — "  No  one 
but  me  —  no  one  but  me  —  and  they  never  will, 
they  never,  never  will !  " 

"  Bill's  last  novel  was  so  shocking  to  the  coun 
try  people  up  near  our  summer  place,  that  they 
treated  him  as  if  he  had  scarlet  fever,  last  season," 
said  the  wife  of  the  day's  most  rapid  seller.  "  If 
they  saw  him  coming  into  the  country  store,  they 


166  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

would  carom  off  from  the  dry  goods  to  the  gro 
cery  side,  and  buy  raisins  when  they  had  come  ex 
pressly  for  fly  netting,  so  not  to  have  to  talk  about 
it!  They  liked  Bill,  but  the  book  was  too  much 
for  them." 

"  O  Bill  is  not  so  bad  as  he  is  advertised,"  en 
couraged  Dick  Mayhew. 

"  Of  course  a  man  may  write  things  a  woman 
is  not  allowed  to  think  in  the  dark,"  said  Mrs.  Mai- 
comber  tartly. 

Bill's  wife  looked  thoughtful.  "  I  wonder  if 
that  is  why,  when  Carrie  Blair's  book  came  out, 
people  would  not  admit  they  had  read  it,  though 
they  said  — "  how  any  pure-minded  woman  could 
—  and  how  George  Blair  could  have  let  her  — !  " 

"  No  pure-minded  woman  could  do  anything 
whatever,  if  women  ran  the  world,"  interposed  Au 
brey  Jones,  "  Carrie  did  what  she  could  — " 

"  And  far  more  than  she  ought  to !  "  broke  in 
Mrs.  Malcomber,  cutting  off  his  sentence. 

"  Her  husband  ran  away,  did  he  not  ?  "  asked 
Dick  Mayhew  politely. 

"  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know.  I  assume  every 
body,  who  is  anybody  in  society,  has  been  up  in  a 
balloon,  rolled  down  glaciers,  killed  a  tiger,  been 
divorced  and  committed  suicide  and  then  begin 
there  with  them.  It  simplifies  life  so,"  she  re 
plied.  "  Who  is  that  pretty  girl  in  the  window- 


"SOME  TALK  OF  ME  AND  THEE"      167 

seat  with  a  man  ?  "  she  asked  abruptly.  "  She  is 
being  bored  to  death." 

"  That  is  improvident  of  her,  for  he  is  eligible 
to  a  degree,"  said  Raleigh,  overhearing  her  ques 
tion.  "  He  was  born  handicapped  by  his  own  eli 
gibility.  It  is  his  parents'  fault.  He  regrets  it 
sincerely  enough.  It  robs  life  of  all  romance  and 
makes  him  a  matrimonial  commodity." 

"  The  girl  is  Christine  Trent's  baby  sister,"  con 
tinued  Kenon  Ward,  taking  her  empty  cup.  He 
was  himself  an  unimpeachable  beau  of  sixty  odd 
summers.  Mrs.  Malcomber  looked  again  at  the 
girl  in  the  window-seat.  "  Ah,  it  is  good  to  be 
young  and  pretty, —  once  in  a  while  —  that  is, — " 
she  added  quickly. 

"It  is  better  to  be  old  and  witty,"  he  amended 
seriously  enough. 

"  But  youth  has  its  perquisites,"  she  grumbled. 

"  Think  so  ?  "  He  followed  her  glance  toward 
the  young  girl,  who  had  been  joined  by  a  college 
boy  of  her  own  age, — "  I  would  not  go  through 
it  over  again  for  a  free  seat  in  Trinity." 

"  I  admit  it  is  a  great  deal  of  work  to  be  young 
and  in  love.  I  never  liked  to  play  the  dupe,  but 
remember  the  perquisites !  "  she  reminded  him,  as 
she  turned  away  to  Stephanie. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  do  all  these  flattering  ladies  let 
you  get  near  the  idol  of  the  hour  ?  "  she  asked  for 


i68  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

the  sake  of  opening  some  sort  of  chat  with  this 
unknown  hostess. 

"  I  am  also  just  a  temple  girl,"  Stephanie  said, 
with  a  sweet  affectation  of  humility.  "  I  serve  the 
idol  with  the  rest."  The  old  lady  covered  her  with 
her  lorgnette  for  an  instant  and  then  swept  the 
room  with  a  rapid  stare  for  further  prey. 

Dick  Mayhew  had  joined  Raleigh  and  Christine 
as  they  came  forward  together. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Dick,"  Christine  said 
boldly.  "  I  think  it  is  an  immoral  point  of  view 
you  are  working  out  in  your  last  play.  Tempta 
tion  in  business,  if  admitted  in  action,  is  called 
stealing.  And  the  second  act  of  such  a  play  as 
yours  would  in  reality  have  to  be  set  in  the  Tombs. 
You  novelists  and  playwrights  are  all  writing  tracts 
on  the  fine  art  of  sin  in  general,  upside  down.  I 
don't  believe  one  word  of  your  cant  about  the 
'  preaching  '  of  the  stage." 

"  You  are  all  wrong  and  hopelessly  philistine," 
said  Mayhew  pleasantly.  "  One  should  regard 
temptation  as  a  gift.  I  know  of  no  finer  experi 
ence.  A  soul  incapable  of  such  enjoyment  is  al 
ready  blunted  to  all  moral  finesse.  No  sensation 
is  keener  than  being  tempted,  except  the  superior 
enjoyment  of  resisting  it." 

"  Like  love  ?  "  asked  the  dowager,  again  break 
ing  in,  after  her  own  brigand  fashion,  upon  any 
group  that  sounded  interesting  or  racy. 


"SOME  TALK  OF  ME  AND  THEE"      169 

"  Temptation  in  its  highest  sense,  is  an  affair 
of  divine  insight,  lending  a  flavour  to  the  appe 
tite  for  good,"  Raleigh  asserted  positively.  "  It  is 
a  thing  to  be  resisted  as  Dick  says,  but  because  it 
exists  it  fires  animation.  Death  ensues  to  the  un- 
tempted  mortal,  or  has  already  occurred,  for  his 
will  power  has  no  exercise, —  though  his  friends 
may  not  have  realised  it  and  interred  his  body." 

"Would  you  call  that  justifiable  homicide?" 
asked  Mrs.  Malcomber. 

"  The  Catholic  would,"  said  Mayhew,  "  but  I  be 
lieve  the  capacity  for  temptation  in  some  form 
proves  life  not  extinct.  I  suppose  you  will  think 
it  strange,  but  I  even  can  understand  poor  George 
hating  his  wife — " 

"  Not  at  all,  my  dear  boy.  Don't  apologise !  " 
cried  Mrs.  Malcomber.  "  That  is  nothing.  I  can 
quite  imagine  any  man  hating  his  wife.  She  is  al 
ways  there,  in  the  first  place.  She  is  the  incarnate 
inevitable ! " 

"  She  is  not  always, — "  objected  Christine. 
"  Jim  says  he  is  going  to  get  himself  a  divorce  as 
soon  as  he  has  time,  in  order  to  see  more  of  me." 

"  It  might  not  work  that  way,"  Raleigh  put  in, 
suggestively. 

"  What  is  love  good  for,  any  way  ?  except  on  the 
stage  and  in  novels, —  there  is  really  no  time  for 
it !  "  said  Mrs.  Mayhew.  "  Come,  Dick,  we  are 
shockingly  late  as  it  is." 


170  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

"  It  has  its  perquisites !  "  Mrs.  Malcomber  called 
after  them.  "Don't  forget  the  perquisites!" 
When  almost  all  the  rest  had  gone,  she  went  back 
to  Raleigh  with  a  kindly  handclasp,  to  say,  "  And 
so  they  have  all  talked  about  themselves  and  gos 
siped  and  gone.  If  they  were  not  here  to  con 
gratulate  you,  why  did  they  come  ?  " 

"  That  proves  nothing.  Their  coming  showed 
their  kind  feeling.  They  most  of  them  ought  to 
have  been  somewhere  else  where  they  were  wanted 
and  would  have  been  important  assets  to  the  suc 
cess  of  some  one  else."  He  took  her  easily  enough, 
not  caring  too  much  either  way. 

"  I  will  tell  you  why  they  came,"  she  contra 
dicted.  "  They  want  to  be  able  to  say  they  know 
you, —  at  the  next  place  they  go.  They  want  to 
quote  you, — '  as  Raleigh  Payne  said  to  me  this  after 
noon, —  a  charming  house  that  of  his,  by  the  way, 
—  one  meets  only  the  most  talked  of  and  exclusive 
set  there  of  course,  among  the  younger  celebrities, 
etc.,  etc.!  Or,  So-and-So  said  to  me  yesterday  at 
the  Paynes', —  you  knew  his  poems  had  hit  the  pub 
lic  hard?  His  wife  was  that  beautiful  Austrian 
Countess — '  You  are  a  commodity,  my  dear  Mr. 
Payne.  Your  name  is  a  rising  social  stock.  You 
are  a  sort  of  literary  and  social  elevator,  no  less 
real  in  value  to  the  rest  of  them  than  one  of  those 
monster  affairs  that  hoist  grain  out  in  Chicago, — 
though  purely  fictitious.  Oh,  success  has  its  per- 


"SOME  TALK  OF  ME  AND  THEE"      171 

quisites,  as  well  as  love!  But  are  they  worth 
while  ?  " 

"  You  overwhelm  me,"  Raleigh  protested.  "  I 
can  only  thank  you  for  the  clause  relating  to  Mrs. 
Payne.  The  beautiful  Austrian  may  well  make  me 
famous  and  envied.  But  you  forget  that  I 
claim  only  the  editing  of  the  Lyrics  you  praise  so 
kindly." 

"  I  forgot  your  editorial  pose.  I  refuse  to  call 
it  anything  but  that,"  she  said.  Then,  with  a 
glance  toward  Stephanie  through  her  lorgnette, 
she  shook  her  head.  "  Mrs.  Payne  looks  fagged. 
You  should  take  her  away  at  once.  What  can  all 
this  sort  of  thing  mean  to  her?"  she  said  with  a 
real  flash  of  kindness  toward  them  both. 

"  I  mean  to,  almost  at  once,"  he  replied,  thank 
ing  her  with  a  smile  of  sincere  recognition.  At 
the  door  when  she  was  leaving,  she  paused  an  in 
stant  to  again  wave  her  lorgnette  at  him  across  the 
room.  "  Do  not  forget  the  perquisites ! "  she 
called  back  at  him.  "  Those  of  love  are  worth 
while !  " 

When  they  were  entirely  alone,  Raleigh  went 
swiftly  upstairs  two  steps  at  a  time. 

"  Sorry  to  have  kept  you  so  long  over  your 
hours,  Reardon,"  he  began.  "  Now  for  the  letter 
you  spoke  of.  You  may  copy  and  forward  the 
second  one:  the  one  accepting.  I  have  considered 
it  at  length  and  see  nothing  to  be  gained  by  hold- 


172  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

ing  my  decision  longer.     Get  it  off  on  your  way 
home,  will  you  ?    Good-night !  " 

"  Good-night,  Mr.  Payne,"  Reardon  replied,  and 
automatically  took  the  cover  from  the  typewriter 
and  laid  out  his  copy.  Raleigh  heard  the  noise  of 
the  keys  before  he  was  at  the  stairway.  When  he 
heard  the  thing  actually  in  progress  he  was  glad 
it  was  beyond  recall. 


CHAPTER  X 

ON   THE   PILLOW   OF   DOUBT 

IT  was  the  third  time  Steven  Randall  had  read 
over  the  same  letter.     It  had  surprised  him 
the  first  time,  gone  deeper  and  startled  him 
the  second,  and  now   settled  down  on  him   as  a 
heaviness    of   spirit    dimly    defined    but    definitely 
wrong. 

The  crested  monogrammed  paper  was  of  Ra 
leigh's  household,  and  the  writing  that  of  Ste 
phanie.  What  did  it  mean? 

Cher  Grandee: 

Will  you  be  again  so  gracious  as  to  permit  me  to  come 
and  espouse  poverty,  chastity  and  agriculture  with  you? 
It  is  sad  without  me,  in  your  solitude, —  yes?  And  I 
should  be  entirely  happy  to  find  myself  once  more 
by  your  side.  The  life  here  is  too  much  for  me  and  the 
Mari  speaks  of  going  soon  to  Europe.  And  since  I  lack 
the  inclination  to  accompany  him,  will  you  permit  me  to 
remain  with  you  while  he  is  en  voyage,  as  before?  I 
promise  to  do  all  my  possible  not  to  be  a  care.  Write 
that  I  may  come  — 

Your  very  devoted, 

STEPHANIE. 

I  wish  not  to  go,  you  understand.  It  has  been  discussed 
between  us  and  I  will  not  go.  I  shaJl  remain.  It  is  de 
cided. 

173 


174  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

What  was  the  trouble?  To  Grandee  it  was  in 
explicable.  For  Stephanie  not  to  wish  to  go  back 
to  Europe  might  be  a  caprice  to  punish  Raleigh, 
but  to  deliberately  leave  her  husband  in  the  New 
York  establishment  was  more.  Something  was 
wrong.  He  wired  her  his  hospitality  at  once,  and 
she  came  up  the  next  day  with  many  trunks  and 
without  her  maid,  declaring  herself  prepared  to 
make  no  trouble  and  be  a  consolation  in  his  soli 
tude  only.  That  something  had  happened,  and 
that  it  was  a  relief  to  her  to  be  alone  with  him 
was  apparent.  There  was  something  that  was  im- 
palpably  with  them, —  something  that  hovered  and 
relented  and  peered  forth  again  when  it  had  all 
but  faded  away.  Randall  ranged  himself  on  the 
woman's  side,  ignorant.  He  despaired  of  any 
thing  that  could  break  through  her  fine  acting,  yet 
he  was  sure  it  was  acting  and  kept  up  with  effort 
through  their  long  solitary  days  and  evenings. 
She  was  never  strong  and  the  severe  winter  had 
played  havoc  with  her  health.  She  was  gay  and 
depressed  by  turns,  and  sat  playing  chess  with  him 
hours  at  a  time  without  speaking.  The  spring 
seemed  never  to  be  coming.  Joel  Underwood 
never  met  her  pacing  up  and  down  the  icy  terrace, 
without  prognosticating  the  utter  destruction  of  his 
early  crocuses  and  hyacinths,  pursing  up  his  mouth 
sourly  as  if  having  foreseen  trouble  was  his  only 
satisfaction.  Sometimes  he  stopped  her  to  ex- 


ON  THE  PILLOW  OF  DOUBT        175 

change  a  few  amenities  as  to  "  foreign  parts,"  which 
were  his  secret  mania,  and  about  which  he  read 
every  book  he  could  get  hold  of.  It  was  a  con 
cession  to  her,  which  she  accepted  as  a  high  com 
pliment,  when  he  opened  his  remarks  one  morn 
ing  by  saying: 

"  Speaking  of  furrin'  parts,  Mrs.  Payne,  I  have 
seen  some  furriners  I  liked  about  as  well  as  Ameri 
cans." 

"  I  am  very  happy  to  hear  you  say  so,  Joel,  most 
Americans  are  not  so  generous,"  she  replied,  draw 
ing  her  fur  closer  about  her  against  the  curdling 
wind. 

"  It  must  be  lonesome,  over  there,"  he  continued 
reflectively  — 

And  in  Stephanie's  imagination  the  other  side  of 
the  picture  presented  itself,  as  she  saw  again  by 
inner  vision  the  thronging  Ringstrasse,  of  Vienna, 
where  the  pace  of  the  horses  is  as  mad  as  the 
crowd  on  the  promenade  is  leisurely ;  the  flying  mo 
tors  of  France, —  the  idlers  in  the  cafes  of  the  Bois, 
the  riviera  flutter  and  fascination —  The  world 
called  her  in  various  tongues  and  many-coloured 
pleasures  as  the  old  gardener  waited,  and  then 
brought  her  back  to  the  present  by  another  semi- 
inference, — "  I  suppose  you  may  have  seen  a 
crowned  head.  That's  what  I  want  to  do,  next  to 
seeing  a  few  battle  fields.  Not  but  that  we  will 
have  dead  remains  enough  lying  right  round  here, 


176  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

if  this  keeps  up," — he  promised,  his  one  eye  de 
tecting  more  possibilities  of  winter-killed  beauty 
without  looking  at  it,  than  the  co-operating  pair  of 
better  endowed  mortals.  She  was  so  sweet  and 
patient  with  them  all,  Randall  felt,  from  the  na 
ture  of  the  case,  her  difference  with  her  husband 
must  have  been  Raleigh's  fault.  That  she  was 
deep,  capable  of  going  far  below  the  surface  and 
staying  down  a  long  time,  he  admitted  to  himself 
repeatedly.  She  never  spoke  unguardedly  or  in 
any  way  that  reflected  upon  Raleigh  unpleasantly. 
If  she  had  sometimes  made  a  little  fling  in  a  care 
less  way,  or  some  little  feminine  sarcasm  at  the 
expense  of  men  in  general,  he  could  easily  have 
forgiven  her.  But  she  gave  him  no  occasion. 
The  man  who  watched  her  so  carefully  would  have 
been  more  at  ease  if  she  had  turned,  in  a  sudden 
spasm  of  anger,  and  confessed: 
"  I  hate  him,  Grandee !  How  I  hate  him !  " 
It  seemed  to  him  that  she  was  either  subdued  by 
her  dependence  upon  a  man  whom  she  disliked  and 
wished  to  separate  herself  from,  or  that  she  was 
smarting  under  his  indifference  and  trying  to  coerce 
him  by  her  own  silence.  At  times  he  thought  she 
seemed  afraid  of  Raleigh  and  again  she  acted  in 
dependently  of  his  wishes, —  as  in  this  instance  of 
thwarting  his  summer  plans,  which  argued  her  mis 
tress  of  whatever  unexplained  situation  lay  be 
tween  them.  To  Grandee  she  seemed  to  be  think- 


ON  THE  PILLOW  OF  DOUBT        177 

ing,  always  thinking  about  something  that  she  did 
not  quite  solve.  When  he  spoke  to  her,  she  an 
swered  as  if  he,  and  not  the  absorbing  thought, 
was  the  unreality.  And  he  studied  her  fondly  over 
his  reviews  and  newspapers,  as  they  sat  by  the 
fire  after  dinner,  while  she  read  the  Matin  and 
L'lllustration  he  had  ordered  sent  to  her  from 
Paris,  with  her  head  propped  up  on  her  frail  hand, 
jewelled  as  always. 

And  so  day  by  day  they  lived  toward  the  golden 
hope  of  springtide,  and  one  by  one  the  tulips 
pricked  up  and  turned  their  eager  cups  for  the 
sun's  overflowing,  and  the  hyacinths,  like  stiff- 
skirted  shepherdesses  of  Arcady,  were  fondled  by 
bees  that  jostled  each  other  in  their  fumbling  gal 
lantries  to  be  first  and  longest  at  their  honeyed 
Cups.  And  only  Joel  unappeased  by  banks  of 
fragrance  and  colour,  grumbled  at  portentous  signs 
of  the  ravaging  elm  beetle,  and  prophesied  com 
plete  destruction  if  all  the  trees  were  not  sprayed 
at  once.  Only  Raleigh's  "  furrin' "  wife  diverted 
him  somewhat  from  his  acrid  satisfaction  in  the 
general  doom  of  Nature.  He  found  in  her  an  op 
portunity  to  study  a  new  type  of  flower  at  hand, 
hitherto  only  recognisable  in  bedizened  catalogues 
that  were  nefarious  in  the  false  expectations  they 
aroused.  At  least,  that  was  the  way  he  repre 
sented  his  interest  in  her  to  his  own  understand 
ing.  He  studied  her  by  indirections,  exaggerated 


178  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

by  his  visual  dissent,  and  edged  into  conversation 
with  her  as  often  as  he  could  induce  the  impres 
sion  that  he,  not  she,  was  being  led  to  talk  against 
his  will  and  better  judgment,  and  so  without  loss 
of  dignity  or  circumspection.  He  expected  little 
of  her  and  generously  ignored  her  right  to  amount 
to  much  — "  considering."  Which  last  word  was 
with  him  the  pith  of  many  a  prejudice  and  the  end 
of  many  an  argument,  leaving  the  matter  open  to 
be  again  narrowly  followed  up  as  he  saw  fit.  He 
never  let  her  observe  how  faithfully  he  tended  the 
flowers  she  preferred,  or  how  rigidly  he  kept  watch 
over  her  own  Sittings  in  and  out  his  imperilled  bor 
ders.  He  was,  however,  none  the  less  aghast  when 
her  clear  voice  broke  in  upon  the  midst  of  one  of 
his  worm-eaten  meditations,  with  her  sweet  friend 
liness  of  interest: 

"  Tell  me  something  about  your  wife,  Joel.  I 
hear  she  too  is  a  Papist."  He  was  lining  a  curved 
path  and  he  straightened  up  stiffly,  while  his  dis 
senting  eyes  disputed  the  right  of  first  denial  to 
so  preposterous  a  fallacy. 

"  Whoever  said  that  must  have  got  a  blow  on 
his  head  " —  he  remarked  impersonally. 

"  It  was  Grandee,  Mr.  Randall,  I  mean,"  she  has 
tened  to  say,  feeling  she  had  made  a  mistake. 

"  Maybe  he  did,  and  maybe  he  didn't  " —  Joel 
qualified,  "  but  he  knew  better,  if  he  did." 

"  But  yes,  certainly,  he  said  to  me  that  word, — 


ON  THE  PILLOW  OF  DOUBT        179 

it  sounded  as  if  he  did  " —  she  added  apologetically. 
"  It  is  nothing  bad  to  be  one.  I,  myself,  am  one 
you  remember." 

"  She  is  a  Baptist,  that  is  what  she  is,"  Joel 
stated,  to  whom  it  might  concern. 

"A  Baptist,"  she  repeated  gently.  "Tell  me, 
please,  what  is  a  Baptist,  Joel  ?  " 

"  Whatever  it  is,  it  is  a  long  way  from  a  Papist," 
abbreviating  his  definition  for  good  reasons  of  his 
own. 

"  And  you  are  one  of  those,  also,  or  are  you  of 
Mr.  Randall's  faith  ? "  she  asked,  trying  to  atone 
for  her  unintentional  failure  in  respect. 

"  There  is  only  one  variety  of  religion  in  my  fam 
ily.  That  is  enough  for  any  respectable  house 
hold.  I  would  not  let  a  member  of  my  family  go 
off  and  get  a  strange  religion,  any  more  than  I 
would  go  off  and  get  another  strange  wife ! " 

He  verified  his  straight  edge  of  the  flower  bed 
he  was  cutting,  with  a  long  tort  string,  and  as  he 
walked  away  from  her,  he  added,  as  if  he  had  at 
the  same  time  laid  righteousness  to  the  plumb,  "  It 
would  be  better  if  others  felt  the  same.  There's  no 
good  to  come  out  of  a  different  hope  of  heaven 
and  hell  in  the  same  family.  It  works  against  Na 
ture."  And  Stephanie  withdrew,  feeling  convicted 
of  spiritual  misdemeanour,  without  having  the  least 
conception  of  wherein  she  had  erred.  She  was  un 
affectedly  anxious  to  be  gracious  to  all  about  her, 


i8o  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

in  spite  of  an  increasing  sense  of  her  isolation 
from  them  by  their  distrust  of  anything  unfamiliar 
and  not  compliant  with  their  own  established  or 
der.  There  is  no  denying  that  Society  is  a  play 
for  which  no  part  can  be  learned  beforehand.  One 
finds  oneself  upon  the  stage  unaware  if  one  has 
been  cast  by  the  higher  powers  for  a  heroic  role, 
or  one  of  sheer  comedy  to  amuse  the  idle  onlooker. 
One  may  be  letter-perfect  in  Juliet  and  find 
oneself  cast  for  Sans  Gene,  look  the  part  of  a  se 
ductive  Phedre,  and  find  the  exigence  of  the  mo 
ment  demanding  the  brains  of  a  Portia  to  deter 
mine  a  path  out  of  life's  relentless  labyrinth.  In 
this  respect  the  woman  of  society  transcends  the 
actress-by-trade,  however  consummate, —  in  her 
adaptation  to  the  demand  of  the  totally  unexpected. 

Stephanie  felt  herself  cast  for  the  ghost  of  her 
self  in  these  hours  that  followed  each  other  like 
Emerson's  muffled  dervishes.  The  spring  morn 
ings  broke  to  no  rapture  but  Nature's  elemental 
passion,  and  the  lengthening  days  given  for  joy 
and  youth,  led  back  to  evenings  of  impersonal  ful 
filment. 

What  is  monotony  to  others,  is  to  one  who  loves, 
dearness.  Each  simple  successive  beauty  here 
might  have  stood  for  a  continuing  pledge  of  love 
to  love.  To  her,  they  were  a  dreary  mockery. 
She  flitted  about  the  terraces  and  tried  to  interest 
herself  in  the  garden,  where  Joel  bore  her  experi- 


ON  THE  PILLOW  OF  DOUBT        181 

ments  until  she  planted  a  row  of  dahlias  upside 
down. 

"  As  if  there  wa'nt  enough  to  contend  with, 
without  planting  bulbs  for  China !  "  he  grumbled 
when  Grandee  begged  him  to  reverse  the  per 
formance  and  say  nothing  to  Mrs.  Payne  about  it. 

"  It  does  seem  as  if  Providence  '  worked  in  a  mys 
terious  way '  to  pester  me  in  that  garden,  without 
planting  upside  down !  "  he  repeated ;  his  grievance 
leaking  like  vinegar  from  his  thin,  determined  lips. 
"  Have  you  noticed  the  brown  leaves  curled  up  on 
the  rosydendrums ?  If  one  goes,  they'll  all  go!  I 
can't  have  her,  nor  any  woman,  deviling  round  on 
these  terraces.  If  she  wants  to  dig,  let  her  dig 
down  in  the  kitchen  garden  where  it  won't  show." 
Fortunately  her  interest  in  Eve's  avocation  wasted, 
and  she  turned  to  the  piano  for  companionship, 
but  finding  in  it  a  device  to  set  her  nerves  racing, 
was  wise  enough  to  hold  herself  with  a  tight  curb 
and  turn  back  to  the  outer  world. 

"If  there  was  a  fountain,  Grandee, —  why  is 
there  not  a  fountain  ?  "  she  asked  wistfully.  "  It 
would  be  like  a  little  sister  to  play  with,  dancing 
away  out  there  when  you  are  resting  or  reading 
your  ponderous  works  on  impossible  subjects.  I 
should  never  feel  alone  if  there  was  alive  water 
near  me." 

"  Fountains  belong  in  artificial  gardens,"  he  told 
her.  "  They  are  feminine ;  like  all  running  water, 


182  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

they  prattle  all  they  know, —  the  gossips!  I  won't 
have  them  in  an  honest  bachelor's  paradise !  " 

"  I  know, —  and  the  ghosts  walk  beside  them 
too,"  she  said  quickly.  "  Sad  little  ghosts  also,  for 
the  ghosts  are  always  saddest  in  any  place  they 
have  been  once  happiest,  you  know,  Grandee." 

And  all  the  time  she  was  wondering  if  Raleigh 
had  been  told  yet?  Did  he  know  that  she  knew? 
Had  some  one  at  the  story's  end  spoken  her  name, 
— "  You  knew  who  the  woman  was  ?  "  And  then 
it  would  be  all  over  in  an  instant. 

As  the  season  advanced  she  absolutely  declined 
being  included  in  the  summer  colony.  She  made 
no  allusion  to  her  retirement,  but  to  Christine  urg 
ing  all  sorts  of  festivities  upon  her,  reiterated  un 
waveringly  : 

"  Grandee  is  not  strong.  He  likes  to  have  me 
with  him." 

If  she  had  her  reasons  for  preferring  to  be  away 
from  Raleigh,  she  was  beyond  criticism  in  the  man 
ner  she  employed  her  seclusion.  To  outsiders  this 
perhaps  but  increased  her  charm.  Many  a  week 
end  guest  implored  his  hostess  to  produce  this  for 
eign-looking  being  to  grace  the  more  or  less  dull 
Sunday  dinner  table.  And  not  a  little  brazen 
finesse  of  the  American  brand  was  employed  to 
net  this  unavailable  butterfly  that  hovered  tantalis- 
ingly  out  of  reach. 

"  I  do  not  like  to  leave  Grandee,"  Stephanie  said 


ON  THE  PILLOW  OF  DOUBT        183 

gently  over  and  over  again,  as  if  her  excuse  was 
also  her  subtle  extenuation  of  being  at  Sky  High 
at  all. 

"  Just  use  me  either  way,  for  or  against," 
Grandee  said,  amused  to  serve  as  social  buffer. 
"If  you  don't  want  to  accept,  say  I  am  at  death's 
door.  If  anything  you  care  to  do  comes  up,  I  will 
recover,  and  be  able  to  be  left." 

But  when  she  carried  it  so  far  that  even  he  de 
serted  her,  and  added  his  importunity  to  the  rest, 
she  was  ready  with  still  another  soft  evasion: 

"  I  do  not  find  it  natural  to  go  into  the  world, 
in  the  absence  of  my  husband." 

Here  she  intrenched  herself.  She  was  never 
seen  in  church,  being  a  Catholic,  so  her  legend 
grew,  as  such  legends  will  in  a  country  place  full 
of  idlers,  all  so  closely  resembling  each  other  as 
to  hail  any  variety,  and  resent  its  insinuation  of 
superiority.  To  Grandee  she  seemed  rather  to  be 
protecting  herself  from  a  hint  of  scandal,  than  re 
fraining  from  diversion  from  natural  instinct,  or 
an  absorbing  passion  for  the  absent  husband. 

One  chilly  April  afternoon,  when  she  had  been 
wandering  through  the  wet  woods,  she  lost  her 
bearings  and  came  out  upon  a  pair  of  bars  at  the 
edge  of  a  steep  ravine.  It  was  dusk  already,  as 
she  stood  undecided  how  to  go  on.  Suddenly,  a 
lighted  train  shot  past  her  in  the  cut  below.  She 
caught  her  breath. —  already  she  heard  it  whistling 


184  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

for  the  crossing  half  a  mile  below.  It  meant  Life! 
She  knew,  by  the  quick  spasm  at  her  heart,  she 
should  come  again  at  this  hour  and  watch  for  the 
thrill,  quick  with  the  beat  of  the  great  world.  A 
relation  was  instantly  established,  through  this  me 
dium,  with  the  passioning  night-life  of  cities  and 
the  troubling  call  of  the  Away! 

So  spring  passed  out  into  June  with  its  wasted 
wealth  of  roses  and  its  vain  moonlight,  while 
Grandee  pondered  his  momentous  moves  at  chess, 
or  she  read  aloud  to  him  in  her  voice  whose  con 
ventual  intonation  went  oddly  enough  with  the 
editorial  page  of  a  New  York  paper.  And  one 
evening  as  she  returned  from  her  tryst  with  the 
lighted  train  in  the  cut,  she  heard  some  one  on  the 
highway,  the  other  side  of  the  wall  whistling  — 
"  Behiit  dich  Gott !  "  and  she  listened  till  it  trailed 
off  in  the  distance,  wondering  who  the  local  Trum 
peter  might  be,  and  why  he  chose  that  particular 
song. 

It  was  on  a  rainy  afternoon  before  the  longest 
day,  when  the  peonies  and  Carmencita  poppies 
looked  like  dishevelled  revellers  after  a  bal  masque, 
their  tissue  dominoes  lying  at  their  feet, 
that  Christine's  stable  boy  appeared  at  Sky 
High  with  a  note  marked  urgent,  begging  Ste 
phanie  to  come  over  for  tea.  Just  why  Stephanie 
assumed  her  to  be  alone,  if  mere  assumption  it 
was,  perhaps  she  herself  could  not  have  satisfac- 


ON  THE  PILLOW  OF  DOUBT        185 

torily  explained.  Grandee,  on  the  face  of  it,  was 
for  once  on  her  side  too, — .or  the  side  she  had  led 
him  to  suppose  was  continuedly  hers.  He  began 
at  once  inventing  excuses  for  her  with  unusual 
ingenuity. 

"  Make  the  calamity  that  prevents  you,  public 
or  private,  as  you  like,"  he  offered  recklessly. 
"  Anything  except  having  died  in  the  night,  I  will 
live  up  to." 

"  She  is  really  too  amiable.  Probably  I  ought 
to  accept,"  Stephanie  said  slowly. 

"  Not  if  you  do  not  want  to,"  Grandee  pro 
tested.  "  What  right  has  Christine  to  order  you 
up?" 

"  But,  yes,  probably  Raleigh  would  not  wish  me 
to  always  refuse  her." 

"  I  would  not  go  a  step  if  I  did  not  feel  like  it !  " 

"  It  is  not  a  question  of  what  I  feel.  It  is  not 
that  I  feel  like  it,  or  that  I  feel  any  inclination  at 
all,  to  go  or  not  to  go." 

"  Well,  go  then,  I  would ! "  he  urged  half-heart 
edly. 

"  Not  if  you  will  miss  me ! "  detecting  his  hy 
pocrisy.  "  Shall  you  miss  me,  Grandee  ?  " 

"Always!" 

"Even  for  an  hour?" 

"  Even  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour !  " 

But  she  went.  It  was  drizzling  and  chilly  and 
she  was  driven  down  under  the  drenched  trees, 


186  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

with  the  hood  drawn  up  over  the  Victoria,  so  that 
she  saw  only  the  buttons  on  the  back  of  the  coach 
man's  coat,  and  got  out  at  Christine's  expecting 
to  be  taken  upstairs  at  once. 

But  there  were  voices  in  the  library.  There 
was  a  bright  birch  fire  and  Christine  sat  by  the 
tea  table;  at  her  feet,  on  a  red  cushion,  graceful 
in  spite  of  his  unusual  height,  Archie  Newbolcl, 
the  portrait  painter.  Jim  Trent  was  mixing  some 
sort  of  a  hot  concoction,  the  empty  glasses  in  a 
row  on  the  mantel  above  him  waiting  to  be  filled. 
A  stranger  was  reading  aloud,  standing  by  the 
window  to  catch  the  fading  light,  and  on  the  great 
divan  sat  a  girl  she  had  never  seen  and  another 
strange  man. 

Stephanie  saw  at  a  glance  round  the  low-stud 
ded  room  with  its  atmosphere  so  pronouncedly  "  in- 
time,"  that  the  situation  was  the  one  she  most  ob 
jected  to,  an  American  "  informal  "  occasion.  One 
of  those  indefinable  miscellaneous  affairs  in  which 
she  never  felt  herself  at  ease. 

She  wore  a  plain  black  frock  with  no  other  orna 
ment  than  a  long  emerald  chain  and  silver  cruci 
fix;  a  close  silver  collar  with  an  emerald  clasp 
round  her  throat.  Her  exaggerated  black  hat  was 
veiled,  for  which  she  was  grateful,  and  the  thick 
meshes,  together  with  the  drooping  brim  gave  her 
a  slight  sense  of  ambush,  as  they  all  turned  toward 
her  at  once.  Her  mouth  remained  proud  and  un- 


ON  THE  PILLOW  OF  DOUBT        187 

smiling,  and  from  her  smart  heels  to  her  crouch 
ing  plumes,  she  was,  and  knew  she  was,  utterly 
out  of  drawing  with  the  whole  setting  and  the 
group  within. 

"  Ah,  we  have  caught  you !  "  cried  Christine  mer 
rily.  "  We  have  got  her  at  last !  Come,  Nina, 
and  be  presented  to  Mrs.  Raleigh  Payne." 

The  girl  rather  reluctantly  left  the  divan,  with 
a  glance  at  the  man  beside  her,  as  if  commanding 
him  to  remain  standing  where  he  was  until  her 
return.  Newbold  drew  himself  to  his  feet  and 
covered  her  with  a  critical  squint,  that  saw  and 
judged  her  artistic  values  at  every  point.  Jim 
Trent  thrust  a  glass  in  her  hand  saying,  "  Try  it ! 
You  will  find  it  better  than  tea."  The  man  who 
was  reading,  becoming  aware  of  an  interruption, 
stopped,  looking  little  less  than  annoyed. 

"  I  believed  that  I  should  find  you  quite  alone," 
Stephanie  began,  when  the  introductions  were 
over.  She  attempted  conversation  with  the  girl 
first,  a  pretty,  inconsequent  thing,  who  announced 
herself  as  hating  Europe,  having  been  dragged 
over  it  three  times  by  a  father  who  wanted  to  be 
able  to  say  he  had  been  there,  and  seen  it,  no  mat 
ter  what  came  up. 

She  got  back  to  her  original  position  on  the  di 
van  by  her  first  partner  as  soon  as  it  was  feasible. 

The  reading  man,  Remmington  by  name,  took 
his  turn  next,  asking  her  a  few  leading  questions, 


188  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

much  as  one  would  interview  a  reformed  Esqui 
maux,  or  some  caged  phenomenon,  a  fallen  star 
perhaps,  or  any  stray  wanderer  from  its  native 
sphere. 

Did  she  think  Americans  exaggerated,  as  they 
were  said  to? 

Not  too  much,  a  little  perhaps. 

Did  she  think  the  American  women  were  spoiled  ? 

No,  on  the  contrary,  the  men. 

Did  she  like  America? 

Oh,  undoubtedly! 

Newbold  was  waiting.  He  was  from  the  South 
and  the  only  one  in  the  room  who  in  the  least  shared 
her  attitude  of  an  alien,  in  his  silent  scorn  of  every 
thing  north  of  Dixie,  which  all  the  hall-marked 
F.  F.  V.s  carry  about  with  them,  unexpressed  but 
never  inexpressive.  He  let  Jim  Trent,  Christine's 
sister  and  even  Christine  herself  second  Remming- 
ton's  efforts.  Each  took  a  turn  at  the  elegant  art 
of  manoeuvring  conversation  by  interrogation  out 
of  a  reserved  mortal  with  no  idea  of  showing  her 
hand,  before  he  quietly  took  the  low  chair  next 
her.  He  leaned  his  head  contentedly  back  upon 
the  cushions  and  looked  at  her  with  due  apprecia 
tion.  It  was  bound  to  be  a  deadlock  at  first,  for 
both  knew  relief  was  at  hand  and  neither  cared  to 
hurry  the  pleasant  certainty.  His  eyes,  odd  eyes 
that  did  not  often  meet  one's  own,  continued  to 
approve.  His  first  instant  admission  of  her  charm 


ON  THE  PILLOW  OF  DOUBT        189 

was  momently  heightening.  The  others,  glad 
to  be  rid  of  the  responsibility  of  her  diversion,  fell 
to  easier  topics  and  cheerful  chaffing,  leaving  them 
to  themselves.  The  meeting  of  every  new  man 
and  woman  creates  the  possibility  of  the  door  of 
a  new  Eden  swinging  open.  Of  this  these  two, 
being  cosmopolitans  of  emotion  as  well  as  life, 
were  perfectly  aware. 

He  did  not  ask  her  if  she  liked  America   or 

American  men.    And  he  did  call  the  little  tea  cakes 

.  he  offered  her  "  Madeleines,"  then  when  she  glanced 

up  quickly  at  the  happy  association  of  the  name, 

1  his  odd  eyes  were  responsive,  though  he  dropped 

them  almost  at  once  as  he  said  earnestly, —  with 

that  equally  familiar  seriousness  of  the  French  in 

trivialities : 

"  Don't  you  love  the  kind  they  have  at  the  cor 
ner  of  the  Rue  Olivier  ?  " 

Like  a  fish  coming  to  the  surface  at  the  shadow 
of  a  fly  she  rose  to  his  innocent  bait.  Without 
lifting  her  veil  she  gave  unveiled  consent  to  forget- 
fulness  of  surroundings  in  the  joy  of  re-hearing 
.  those  intimately  remembered  names  in  his  easy 
drawl  that  differed  so  from  their  American  pro 
nunciation. 

"  To  think  that  it  should  sound  like  music  to 
hear  one  say  again  even  La  Cascade,  Les  Ambassa- 
deurs,  Arminoville !  "  she  cried. 

"  It  is  like  reading  over  a  wine  card  to  hear  you 


THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

repeat  them  after  me,"  he  assured  her,  with  his  in 
dolent  smile. 

"  No,  I  am  very  serious  in  my  desire  to  hear  you, 

—  if  it  is  only  to  say   over  the   railway  stations 
from    Paris    to    Marseilles, —     Begin,    please,    at 
Dijon." 

"  I  can  even  say  Folie  Bergere,  Auteuille  and 
the  Belle-Maniere,"  he  told  her,  amused  by  her  fer 
vour.  "  Every  Parisian  knows  the  beautiful 
Alsace  with  her  native  head-dress  and  satin  gown, 
who  was  once  the  Mistress  of  Boulanger,  and  is 
now  mistress  of  the  art  of  fried  sole  '  avec  sauce 
tartare  '  and  '  Faisan  d'Artignan  ' !  " 

From  cafes  they  went  to  theatres,  acting,  music, 

—  he  always  leading. 

"  I  am  content  that  you  love  the  French  songs 
best,"  she  said,  to  lead  him  on  to  an  expression  of 
his  taste  hitherto  undeclared,  for  her  own  reasons. 

"  I  have  not  said  that  I  did,  but  I  do.  I  am  sur 
prised  that  you  do  not  insist  upon  the  German  mu 
sic.  Most  women  seem  to  feel  they  must.  They 
talk  a  lot  of  rubbish  about  the  purity  of  German 
sentiment,"  he  ventured. 

"  Eh,  bien,  one  prefers  one's  husband  to  like 
the  German  songs  best, —  it  reveals  those  qualities 
that  make  a  good  husband, —  does  it  not  ?  But  me, 
myself  I  prefer  French." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  The  un-nerving  kind,"  he  sug 
gested. 


ON  THE  PILLOW  OF  DOUBT        191 

"  But  there  are  those  equally  beautiful  in  Ger 
man,  par  example  in  the  Trompeter  von  Sack- 
ingen.  Do  you  recall  the  farewell?  It  is  called 
the  nursemaid's  song  in  Austria.  It  is  so  popular 
as  to  have  become  vulgar,  even." 

He  shook  his  head.  "  I  have  no  ear  for  music. 
I  should  not  remember  it  if  I  had  heard  it." 

"  In  Vienna  you  would  hear  it  until  you  could 
never  forget." 

"  Alas !  Vienna  I  have  yet  to  see,"  he  admitted, 
regretting  it  sincerely  with  an  impatient  sigh. 

"  It  is  much  better,  Monsieur  Newbold !  If  you 
had,  our  meeting  to-day  would  have  been  quite  a 
scandal.  To  encounter  one  from  Vienna  to 
day  would  be  to  embrace  it ! "  And  gay  as 
guard-mount  she  began  to  talk  to  him,  with 
strange  little  dusks  of  melancholy  sadness  in  be 
tween,  as  she  had  not  talked  for  months, —  years 
perhaps. 

He  found  her  too  delightful  to  share  and  monop 
olised  unblushingly.  The  carriage  surprised  her 
as  much  as  it  did  him.  It  had  been  a  short  hour 
to  both. 

"  I  shall  swear  I  have  been  to  Vienna  and  just 
come  back,  next  time  we  meet !  "  he  told  her,  as 
Jim  Trent  interrupting  them,  brought  up  the  man 
hitherto  in  the  background  sitting  by  Christine's 
sister  on  the  divan. 

"  I  do  not  want  you  to  go  away,   Mrs.  Payne, 


192  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

without  meeting  my  brother, —  my  amusing  little 
brother  Lawrence  Trent." 

Stephanie  bowed  formally  without  rising. 
Something  impelled  her  to  lift  her  eyes  and  she 
started  slightly. 

"  If  I  knew  you  and  loved  you  I  should  call 
you  Gaston,"  she  said  with  a  sudden  daring  reck 
lessness,  putting  out  her  hand  to  meet  his  own. 

"  Please  begin  now,"  he  begged.  "  Begin  right 
where  you  left  off  with  him!  You  are  so  difficult 
to  meet  I  am  sure  there  is  not  going  to  be  any  fu 
ture  tense  to  anticipate,  I  won  out  by  betting  you 
would  not  come  to-day, —  but  I  shall  never  hope  to 
win  on  it  again,  even  if  I  change  sides." 

"  So,  then,  this  was  a  trap  ?  "  she  asked,  colour 
ing  with  annoyance. 

"  Well,  of  course  one  always  wants  to  meet  the 
people  one  cannot,  and  nobody  could  seem  to  get 
at  you.  And  Newbold  and  I  have  dragged  Rem- 
mington  up  here  to  work  this  summer,  so  we  are 
really  neighbours,  in  the  country  sense.  We  have 
taken  the  Squirrel's  Nest,  you  know,  on  the  ridge 
next  below  Sky  High.  We  are  really  tenantry  of 
Mr.  Randall's  and  just  outside  his  walls." 

"  You  must  have  a  very  beautiful  panorama  of 
the  hills,"  she  said  conventionally. 

"  Oh,  heavens !  Do  you  do  that  too  ?  "  he  pro 
tested. 

"Do  what?" 


OAT  THE  PILLOW  OF  DOUBT        193 

"  Talk  about  the  purple  hills,  the  hyacinthine 
hills?  Everybody  does  it  here.  It  gets  on  my 
nerves  unbearably.  Remmington  has  to, —  he  is  a 
poet  in  streaks,  and  Chris  is  a  nature  fiend,  and 
Newbold  makes  his  living  in  colour,  of  course.  But 
I  never  dreamed  you  would ! " 

"  You  are  the  only  person  I  have  met  who  was 
not  a  lover  of  Nature."  She  was  incredulous  of 
the  fact  still. 

"  I  said  I  did  not  like  to  talk  about  it,"  he  cor 
rected.  "  Everything  has  been  said  there  is  to  say, 
and  it  is  time  to  return  from  Nature  to  the  new 
and  glorified  eighteenth  century,  still  keeping  the 
passion  of  the  past.  You  ought  to  see  the  expres 
sion  on  all  these  benighted  faces  when  I  talk  dis 
respectfully  of  the  blue-throated  bat-wing  or  the 
yellow-bellied  grossbeak !  " 

"  I  believe  that  I  know  the  effect  you  mean,"— 
she  confessed.  "  I  am  always  full  of  regret  that 
I  am  not  able  to  talk  with  the  same  sentiment  of 
the  hills  as  Christine  and  Mr.  Randall." 

"  When  they  begin  it  before  me  I  always  whis 
tle  the  Mendelssohn  spring  song.  That  is  my 
antidote  for  sentimentality.  It  out-banals  banal 
ity!" 

"  If  you  are  not  devoted  to  the  country,  why  do 
you  place  yourself  here  ?  " 

Her  question  implied  her  old  feeling  that  a  man 
followed  his  inclination  in  all  things. 


194  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

"  Oh,  the  country  is  good  for  some  things, 
though  it  is  not  good  for  the  same  thing  to  all  peo 
ple.  I  am  working  here  this  summer.  I  am  a  her 
mit  and  hate  society  and  the  haunts  of  men, —  es 
pecially  women." 

"  Men  of  low  degree  are  vanity,  and  men  of  high 
degree  are  a  lie,"  Newbold  chimed  in. 

The  re-appearance  of  the  pretty  Nina,  with  the 
baby  over  her  shoulder,  here  created  a  diversion. 
In  all  probability  the  effect  she  intended.  Chris 
tine  held  out  her  arms  but  Remmington  captured 
the  prize  and  tended  it  skilfully,  crossing  his  foot 
so  high  in  the  process,  that  baby  Lucile  played  hap 
pily  with  it  as  a  monster  toy.  There  was  no  pose 
about  it.  He  liked  children  and  was  used  to  them. 
The  tableau  lacked  all  appeal  to  the  imagination  or 
sentiment.  He  looked  like  an  illustration  from  the 
Cotter's  Saturday  night,  no  more  no  less.  There 
is  no  such  test  of  a  man's  delicacy  and  charm 
as  his  way  with  a  child.  Newbold  refused  the 
honour  outright.  He  did  not  care  for  children 
in  their  uncertain  states.  Jim's  brother  mussed 
the  little  creature  as  he  passed  her  like  a  choice 
bundle  over  to  Christine,  but  a  queer  little  jerk 
contracted  Stephanie's  heart  as  she  saw  him  do 
it.  There  had  been  a  supernatural  sweetness  on 
his  cynical  young  face  of  a  duration  swifter  than 
the  passing  of  a  shadow  across  moving  water.  It 
threw  the  temptation  of  Saint  Anthony  upon  the 


ON  THE  PILLOW  OF  DOUBT        195 

screen  of  her  fancy  for  an  unappreciable  instant 
and  was  gone. 

"  Did  I  handle  that  emergency  successfully  ? " 
he  asked  her. 

"  You  should  adopt  the  profession  of  the  Ma 
donna,"  she  assured  him  gravely. 

They  all  took  her  to  the  carriage.  She  did  not 
utter  the  hope  of  seeing  any  one  of  them  again. 
They  stared  at  each  other  when  the  carriage  dis 
appeared  into  the  soft  misty  darkness  and  then 
they  laughed. 

Young  Trent  took  up  Newbold's  wager,  and 
went  the  next  day,  it  being  Sunday,  to  pay  a  call, 
but  was  informed  that  Mrs.  Payne  was  not  at 
home. 

Stephanie  watched  his  irate  back  and  stiffly  con 
scious  shoulders  down  the  driveway  with  some 
amusement.  He  was  young  of  course,  and  Jim 
Trent's  brother  after  all.  There  could  have  been 
no  objection  to  her  receiving  him.  She  wondered 
if  it  was  Mr.  Remmington  or  the  younger  Trent 
who  whistled  "  Behiit  dich  Gott ! "  outside  the  high 
wall  of  Sky  High,  as  she  returned  from  her  cus 
tomary  promenades.  It  could  not  be  Newbold,  so 
it  must  be  one  or  the  other.  She  insisted  to  her 
self  that  it  must  have  been  Remmington,  because 
she  so  distinctly  preferred  it  to  have  been  Trent, — 
after  the  manner  of  women  and  paradox.  And 
then  with  redoubled  force  the  paralysing  question 


196  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

returned, —  from  which  the  diversion  of  the  after 
noon  had  temporarily  set  her  free, —  did  Raleigh 
know  that  she  knew?  Had  any  one  yet  supplied 
the  name  of  that  woman  Nicholas  Heathleagh 
loved  ? 

For  like  her  famous  predecessor,  Stephanie 
"  could  not  slumber  tranquilly  upon  the  pillow  of 
doubt." 


CHAPTER  XI 

A    COMMENTARY    IN    CARDS 

ASIDE  from  an  occasional  sharp  reprimand 
from  Joel  Underwood  for  picking  buds 
with  the  roses,  Stephanie's  days  went  on  as 
before. 

"Mr.  Randall  don't  like  it  that  the  heliotrope 
don't  cover  the  terrace  wall  by  now,  as  'tis,"  he  re 
iterated  to  her.  "  I  see  he  was  on  the  ramparts 
about  it  yesterday.  Right  up  on  the  ramparts ! " 
he  repeated,  meaning  rampage  she  assumed,  from 
Grandee's  explanation  of  Joel's  use  of  the  word. 

Stephanie  had  innocently  supposed  flowers,  like 
love,  were  more  abundant  for  more  love.  She  at 
tempted  to  exonerate  herself  with  Joel  in  vain  on 
any  such  excuse. 

"  Gardening's  just  one  damn  bug  after  another," 
—  was  his  private  adaptation  of  the  popular  con 
ception  of  life  in  general.  "  And  'heliotrope  is  the 
one  flower  that  can't  bear  to  be  picked  at  all.  I 
wish't  you'd  try  to  hold  your  horses,  Mrs.  Payne, 
until  the  '  excursiums  '  are  in  bloom.  They  have 
got  to  be  picked,  to  head  'em  off  from  going  to 
seed ! " 

He  left  her  wondering  on  the  differing  natures 
197 


198  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

of  flowers.  They  were  not  so  unlike  women  then, 
—  some  of  them  had  to  be  taken,  and  others  left 
to  grow  by  themselves. 

She  had  grown  wakeful  of  late,  pondering  her 
imperative  question,  and  often  heard  the  hurrying 
trains  between  midnight  and  dawn.  There  was 
one  freight  that  came  along  about  two  o'clock,  so 
heavily  loaded  that  it  raced  down  the  steep  grade 
toward  the  junction,  echoing  like  the  heels  of  a 
galloping  Centaur,  and  shrieking  strange  un-hu- 
man  cadenzas  that  she  imagined  not  unlike  the  pos 
sible  cry  of  those  wild  and  wholly  rapturous  pagan 
creatures.  It  gave  her  an  odd  sense  of  comrade 
ship  in  the  dead  of  night  when  only  the  night-jar 
was  awake,  heightening  the  desolation  with  its  un 
canny  echo. 

She  often  strolled  toward  the  ravine  where  the 
train  slid  away,  down  the  whirling  current  of  life 
beneath  her,  and  one  evening  returning,  she  delib 
erately  waited  and  peered  cautiously  through  the 
trees  where  the  wall  was  low,  to  discover  that  it 
was  Jim  Trent's  little  brother,  not  the  artist  New- 
bold  or  the  poet  Remmington,  who  whistled 
"  Behiit  dich  Gott !  "  on  the  highway. 

He  had  never  called  again  since  that  first  unsuc 
cessful  attempt,  and  now  July  was  all  but  with  her. 
All  day  long  the  Bruno-hearted  bees,  exponents  of 
a  higher  Pantheism  than  any  Pater  ever  exploited, 
were  reckless  in  adoption  of  any  or  all  sweets  for 


A  COMMENTARY  IN  CARDS         199 

their  own.  The  velvet-veined  butterflies  hung  in 
sultry  swoons  on  noon-tide  blossoms  widely  flaring, 
and  the  scarlet  Tanager,  free  from  the  cares  of  a 
first  brood,  flashed  like  a  sin  of  scarlet  unfor- 
given ! 

It  was  Stephanie's  turn  then  to  be  surprised, 
when  Steven  Randall,  with  many  apologies  for  de 
serting  her,  accepted  an  invitation  to  dinner  at  the 
Squirrel's  Nest.  It  was  really  deserted  on  the  ter 
race  after  her  solitary  meal  was  over,  with  only 
the  whip-poor-wills'  incessant  lashing  of  the  si 
lence  about  her. 

Over  at  the  Bachelor's  mess  it  was  gay  enough  to 
make  up.  Dinner  well  over,  and  an  astonishingly 
varied  amount  of  discussion  roused,  and  personal 
opinion  exchanged,  they  had  settled  down  to  whist. 
Remmington  was  dealing  in  a  crisp  incisive  man 
ner  of  his  own, —  that  manner  of  perfection  in  de 
tail  often  noticeable  in  one  whose  absorbing  inter 
est  is  far  withdrawn.  It  was  also  the  manner  of 
a  man  who  plays  to  win,  no  matter  what  the  nature 
of  the  game. 

"  You  remind  me  of  my  nephew,  Raleigh 
Payne,"  Randall  said,  picking  up  his  cards.  He 
was  the  only  one  not  smoking,  but  hugely  enjoy 
ing  the  vicarious  forbidden  fruit  by  inhalation. 
"  Raleigh  plays  to  win,  just  as  you  do,  life  or 
cards, —  as  it  happens.  I  have  got  to  the  point 
where  I  look  on  in  life  very  much  as  I  do  at  a 


200  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

hand  of  cards.  I  never  saw  a  run  of  spades  just 
like  that  last  of  yours, —  by  the  way, —  I  remember 
seeing  a  run  of  hearts  to  match  it,  barring  the 
queen,  out  in  San  Francisco.  It  is  the  same  way 
in  life,  any  unusual  combination  interests  and  at 
tracts  me,  whether  it  is  for  or  against  me." 

"  It  is  only  when  you  do  not  care  a  picayune 
that  things  come  your  way,"  said  Newbold,  ready 
to  play. 

"  I  suppose  that  is  what  the  '  Methody  parson  ' 
means  when  he  talks  about  '  losing  your  life  to 
find  it,'"  suggested 'Trent  audaciously. 

Randall  smiled  quizzically.  "  Not  to  men  of  my 
nephew's  stamp,"  he  objected,  "  and  they  never 
lead  from  a  finesse." 

In  the  next  interval  between  deals  Newbold  re 
curred  to  Raleigh  Payne. 

"  He  looks  like  a  portrait  of  his  own  ancestors. 
I  admire  his  aristocracy  of  feature  immensely,"  he 
said. 

"  I  never  saw  a  man  so  bent  on  forcing  events 
to  shape  to  his  will,"  Randall  remarked,  sorting 
his  cards  as  he  spoke.  "  He  would  back  himself 
against  any  combination  of  cards  or  luck  and  bet 
his  last  dollar  on  himself !  " 

"  I  like  that,"  cried  Remmington.  "  It  is  he 
roic." 

"  Oh,  well,  the  luck  is  bound  to  run  about  so 
long  one  way,  but  when  it  turns, —  it  turns.  I  al- 


A  COMMENTARY  IN  CARDS         201 

ways  play  as  the  cards  fall,- — at  my  age  one  does. 
Life  and  the  game  are  a  good  deal  alike  by  that 
time.  When  I  lose,  holding  good  cards,  or  win 
unexpectedly  through  my  partner  or  good  playing 
of  my  mediocre  ones,  or  the  reverse,  with  all  or 
nothing  against  me,  it  is  largely  subjective  after 
all.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  enjoy  the  science  of  play 
ing  for  observation,  I  mean.  To  watch  the  cards 
as  they  drop  for  or  against  one, —  to  play  for  the 
game's  sake,  not  merely  to  come  out  ahead.  Why, 
when  you  have  won  the  fun  is  over!  It  takes 
years  and  all  sorts  of  experience  to  produce  such 
a  result,  and  you  youngsters  are  probably  pitying 
me  for  the  dreariness  of  such  a  negative  point  of 
view,  but  life  is  interesting  to  me, —  as  an  on 
looker, —  perhaps  more  acutely  interesting  to  me,  in 
spite  of  my  years,  than  it  ever  was !  " 

"  Place  pour  le  Vieux ! "  cried  Newbold  gal 
lantly. 

"  Yes,  I  note  phenomena.  I  have  ceased  to 
expect  miracles,"  he  concluded,  as  if  to  himself, 
glancing  at  his  hand  again  to  confirm  his  princi 
ple. 

"  That  is  odd,  for  nothing  else  ever  really  hap 
pens,"  interposed  Lawrence  Trent.  "  They  are 
the  only  things  I  do  really  believe  in  or  count 
upon." 

It  was  Newbold  who  asked  in  the  next  interlude 
of  the  game, — "  Where  is  Mr.  Payne  now  ?  " 


202  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

"  In  the  Balkans  briefly.  He  will  not  be  long 
over,  this  time,  in  all  probability." 

"  The  Reviews  say  that  the  poems  he  pretends 
to  have  merely  edited,  revealed  such  an  intimate 
sense  of  the  inner  nature  of  those  people  out  there, 
that  he  can  have  anything  he  wants  in  the  line  of 
re-appointment,"  said  Remmington. 

"  Yes,  Raleigh  is  thoroughly  at  home  on  the 
watershed  where  European  civilisation  flows  back 
from  Tartar  instinct,"  Randall  replied.  "  He  is 
climbing  up  a  crater  to  look  in,  where  the  smoul 
dering  passions  of  the  East  and  West  are  seeth 
ing." 

"  What  does  Mrs.  Payne  think  of  the  lyrics  ?  " 
Newbold  interrupted.  "  People  say  he  wrote  them 
himself,  to  her.  She  must  hate  waiting  here  alone 
all  summer — " 

Steven  Randall  considered  briefly,  or  he  might 
simply  have  been  struck  by  some  unusual  com 
bination  in  his  cards, —  when  he  spoke,  he  an 
swered  only  the  first  half  the  conversational  lead. 

"  It  is  curious,  now  you  speak  of  it,  I  do  not 
remember  hearing  Mrs.  Payne  say  what  she 
thought  of  the  lyrics.  If  she  understands  them  in 
English,  I  can  imagine  though." 

"  They  are  pretty  hot,  for  America  " —  Newbold 
said,  implying  more. 

"  Yes,  and  they  are  truly  great,"  Randall  as 
sented  with  entire  unconcern.  "  And  in  great  men, 


A  COMMENTARY  IN  CARDS         203 

Mr.  Newbold,  you  will  almost  always  find  a  strain 
of  coarseness.  It  is  the  inherent  male  in  them. 
Little  women,  that  is  mediocre,  aenemic,  unvaliant 
women  shrink  from  it  or  pretend  they  do  not  see 
it.  The  great  red-hearted  lower  class  takes  it  for 
granted  and  puts  it  to  Nature's  purpose.  The  su 
perlative  woman,  great  enough  in  herself  to  trans 
cend  class  and  code  for  elemental  reality,  accepts 
it  unashamed.  George  Sand  did,  so  have  notable 
and  honourable  exceptions  in  every  land  and  epoch. 
A  great  woman  recognises  it  for  what  it  is, —  the 
necessary  alloy  to  hold  the  most  precious  human 
ore  together.  She  glories  in  it,  in  the  man  su 
preme,  without  being  herself  less  fine  in  fibre  for 
its  life-giving  contact." 

"  Mrs.  Raleigh  Payne  would,  in  spite  of  her  ex 
quisite  delicacy,"  Trent  was  about  to  say,  but 
stopped  himself  in  time. 

"  That  detracts  from  one's  preconceived  ideal 
of  a  poet,"  persisted  Newbold. 

"  Perhaps,  but  not  from  the  man  himself.  I 
went  looking  for  an  all-round  ideal  when  I  was 
younger.  Now  I  take  men  as  I  find  them, —  and 
I  find  them  good.  If  you  demand  their  best,  you 
will  usually  get  it, —  that  is  if  you  do  your  best  to 
deserve  it." 

"  Make  it  spades,"  interrupted  Remmington. 

When  the  game  was  again  halted,  Newbold 
made  one  more  return  to  his  enthusiasm  for  the 


204  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

picturesque  possibilities  of  Raleigh  Payne.  "  It 
would  be  tremendously  interesting  to  paint  him, — 
that  is  if  he  would  stay  in  focus.  He  has  such  an 
overwhelming  personality  it  would  be  almost  im 
possible  to  get  him  on  any  canvas,"  he  delib 
erated,  with  his  head  a  bit  on  one  side,  as  if  mak 
ing  the  actual  attempt. 

"  He  is  just  as  good  at  business  as  these  more 
sensational  effects,"  said  Randall.  "  His  business 
career  sounds  like  a  gamble,  or  would  if  he  was 
not  the  soul  of  honour.  He  was  in  debt  some 
three  or  four  hundred  thousand  a  year  ago.  His 
income  to-day  is  less  than  four  thousand  and  he  is 
spending  from  fifteen  to  twenty.  He  knows  it  is 
coming  round  all  right.  His  capital  is  most  of  it 
invested  dead,  but  it  is  safe  enough.  He  owns 
more  than  a  million  that  he  made  honestly  him 
self  and  he  never  borrows  on  any  security  but  his 
own  name.  Men  are  glad  to  oblige  him.  He  says 
himself,  the  secret  of  it  is  that  he  never  keeps  any 
one  waiting.  He  is  three  days  ahead  with  his  in 
terest,  always.  That  is  one  secret  of  his  success. 
He  takes  chances,  of  course,  but  not  until  he  has 
insured  his  own  stake  every  time.  Last  year  he 
had  the  Catholic  vote  against  him,  but  they  failed 
to  down  him.  Men  trusted  him  on  his  record, 
though  he  was  a  heretic,  and  his  own  party  almost 
distrusted  him  for  that  same  reason.  But  it  all 
turned  in  to  Raleigh's  account,  both  ways.  His 


'A  COMMENTARY  IN  CARDS         205 

character  was  unassailable  even  under  cross  fire. 
The  Vinxton  Trust  investigations  were  on  at  the 
same  time  too.  But  his  luck  held  and  he  caught 
up.  He  sold  a  block  on  the  East  side,  he  had  of 
fered  for  sixty  thousand,  for  a  hundred.  And  a 
piece  of  vacant  property  up  town  for  a  hundred, 
that  his  own  agent  had  been  trying  to  get  forty 
for, — and  so  on.  He  owns  to-day  more  than  a 
thousand  acres  of  timberland,  up  in  Northern 
Michigan,  that  may  burn  up  any  windy  night,  but 
it  won't  because  it  is  his.  He  keeps  steady  too 
and  never  goes  into  a  pocket  thinking  it  is  a  tun 
nel  ! "  Trent  yawned  politely.  It  was  frankly  not 
Mr.  Payne  who  interested  him. 

"  Men  have  all  sorts  of  complications  to  face," 
Randall  resumed.  "  Raleigh  has  to  look  out  for 
the  Catholic  vote  and  influence." 

"  He  is  a  big  figure  in  the  government  race,  al 
ready,"  said  Newbold  admiringly.  "  I  have  heard 
him  mentioned  for  the  very  highest  prizes.  He 
stands  alone  superbly." 

"  I  sometimes  think  he  is  too  self-reliant,"  Ran 
dall  qualified.  "  There  is  such  a  thing  as  playing 
one's  own  game  to  the  death  of  one's  partners." 

"  A  game  does  imply  more  than  one,"  Trent  in 
serted. 

"  Still,  there  are  situations  in  which  a  man  dare 
not  be  over-scrupulous,"  admitted  Newbold,  who 
was  not  incorruptible. 


206  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

"  Oh,  three  scruples  make  a  damn  in  almost  any 
case,"  scoffed  Trent,  wondering  what  part  Mrs. 
Payne  was  assigned  in  her  husband's  spectacular 
career,  and  playing  so  indifferently  that  it  lost  him 
the  score,  and  roused  Steven  Randall  to  the  un 
wonted  lateness  of  the  hour  and  his  waiting  horses 
outside. 

He  had  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  evening.  He 
made  them  feel  it  in  his  hearty  invitation  to  come 
and  stir  him  up  in  his  retirement.  His  hospital 
ity  was  tinged  with  a  certain  distinct  conscious 
ness  of  what  it  conferred,  impressing  a  recognised 
obligation  upon  whoever  might  accept  the  gracious 
urgence  of  his  proffered  open  hand  and  door. 

Lawrence  Trent  came  first, —  to  share  coffee  and 
liqueur  after  dinner  and  try  his  skill  at  chess. 
Newbold  established  himself  by  his  indolent  but 
surprising  knowledge  of  foreign  affairs,  delight 
ful  to  an  old  campaigner  of  Randall's  type.  Rem- 
mington  chiefly  stopped  away  and  received  the 
comments  of  his  friends  upon  Sky  High  and  its 
occupants. 

Newbold  extolled  the  brand  of  cigars  offered 
there  and  appreciated  the  wine.  Trent  went  into 
mock  ecstasies  over  the  cook,  and  raved,  as  long 
as  either  would  listen  to  him,  over  Mrs.  Raleigh 
Payne.  He  swore  he  had  always  suspected  such 
women  to  exist,  but  had  grown  weary  of  their 


A  COMMENTARY  IN  CARDS         207 

pursuit,  and  let  them  go  as  mere  adornment  of 
fiction.  He  ground  his  teeth  openly  over  the  ex 
istence  of  the  paragon  absentee-landlord  and 
vowed  he  would  cause  prayers  to  be  said  that  his 
ship  might  go  to  the  mermaids  on  its  return  sail 
ing.  And  his  friends,  who  knew  him  best,  could 
not  quite  be  sure  whether  he  covered  his  shameless 
satisfaction  in  Steven  Randall's  perfect  dinners  by 
ardent  professions  of  devotion  to  his  niece-by-mar 
riage,  or  whether  the  reverse  was  nearer  to  his 
programme. 

And  Christine,  noting  the  turn  in  the  weather 
cock,  sent  off  for  less  foolish  youths  to  play  with 
pretty  Nina,  who  for  her  part  wore  more  and  more 
elaborate  toilets  to  each  successive  garden  party, 
in  hope  of  extinguishing  her  rival ;  who  never  ap 
peared  in  person,  but  whose  absent-presence 
seemed  to  inexorably  linger  in  the  atmosphere  of 
the  three  most  desirable  men  of  the  summer.  To 
Christine's  cottage  they  went  politely,  when  in 
vited,  three  strong,  conventionally  attired,  and 
made  themselves  collectively  and  universally  charm 
ing;  leaving  together  before  eleven.  But  Sky 
High  they  soon  pervaded,  "  each  in  his  separate 
star."  Hours  and  customs  were  secondary,  save 
for  dinner,  when  after  the  fashion  set  by  their 
host,  the  proper  recognition  as  to  coats  was  un 
derstood  as  unwritten  law  entirely  binding  and  per 
functory. 


208  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

They  preserved  the  tradition  among  themselves 
that  they  never  saw  Stephanie  alone.  The  first 
suspicion  of  unfair  play  was  roused  one  night, 
never  to  be  quite  laid  again,  when  Remmington 
asked  without  any  connection  whatever, — "  Why 
don't  you  talk  about  Mrs.  Payne  any  more,  Trent? 
Don't  you  like  her  any  more?  Or  do  you  like 
her  too  well  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  love  thee,  love,  too  well,  until  I 
know  thee  more  ? "  had  been  his  instant  para 
phrase  ;  admitted  by  his  listeners  to  be  intentionally 
evasive.  It  was  Remmington  who  whistled  the 
"  Spring .  Song "  now,  out  of  tune  and  key,  but 
baldly  derisive. 

Lawrence  Trent's  own  first  discomfort  was  in 
discovering  that  he  always  knew  if  she  moved,  and 
what  she  said, —  in  any  given  combination  of  peo 
ple  or  circumstances.  He  had  all  but  displayed 
irritation,  on  several  occasions,  when  she  had  low 
ered  her  voice  so  that  he  missed  parts  of  sentences 
while  supposed  to  be  engaged  in  his  own  end  of 
the  situation, —  serving  tea  or  chatting  with  Chris 
tine,  or  setting  up  theories  for  Steven  Randall  to 
knock  down,  which  was  his  favourite  method  of 
slipping  responsilibity  in  conversation,  and  eluding 
detection. 

He  was  not  pleased  to  find  himself  so  supernat- 
urally  aware,  and  noted  it  as  check-worthy.  Ste 
phanie  had  loaned  him  her  copy  of  Prudhomme's 


'A  COMMENTARY  IN  CARDS         209 

poems  and  he  had  carried  his  idolised  Pater  and 
laid  at  her  feet.  It  was  a  blind  offering  of  course, 
since  without  his  interpreting  voice  it  meant  little 
to  her.  After  a  time  he  read  to  her,  but  at  the 
most  distant  hint  of  sentiment  in  any  author,  his 
lips  would  round  over  the  "  friihlingslied,"  which 
she  came  to  detest  as  the  synonym  for  ridicule  of 
all  that  approached  romance. 

"  A  sense  of  humour  is  utterly  incompatible 
with  sentimentality,  thank  God  1 "  was  his  oft  re 
peated  cry.  In  this  she  found  herself  unrespon 
sive.  She  had  never  met  a  male  creature  with  so 
unaffected  a  horror  of  all  expression  of  sentiment, 
yet  never  one  who  lived  on  his  emotions  so  openly, 
and  took  whatever  he  found  in  his  path  that  could 
increase  the  vibration  his  nerves  demanded  for 
their  pleasure.  Like  Pater  himself,  indeed,  he  was 
sensuous,  but  without  sentiment.  Of  the  three  he 
was  the  vagrant;  unreliable  and  utterly  unsatis 
factory  if  one  depended  upon  him.  He  rarely 
came  when  invited,  never  if  his  presence  was  really 
important  to  their  plans  for  the  table  or  happiness 
of  others.  Never  if  he  could  get  out  of  it  de 
cently,  when  there  were  to  be  other  guests.  When 
Newbold  flattered  Stephanie,  which  was  his  cus 
tomary  phrase  •  with  all  women,  and  her  natural 
tribute  from  all  men,  Trent  looked  his  contempt  of 
women  who  live  on  such  pabulum,  as  if  it  was  be 
yond  all  conception  or  recall;  blaming  her  for  the 


210  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

baseness  of  the  performance,  without  for  a  moment 
aspersing  his  friend,  by  whom  he  swore  unre 
servedly. 

The  first  time  Stephanie  found  herself  alone  with 
him,  on  the  terrace  one  evening,  he  asked  her 
abruptly  — "  Why  do  you  talk  so  fast  to  me,  now  ? 
You  are  like  a  champagne  bottle  with  the  cork 
out !  "  His  hands  expressed  his  sense  of  brilliant 
effervescence  and  he  made  a  pretty  feint  of  be 
ing  dazzled,  by  dropping  his  lashes  to  shield  his 
eyes. 

"  But  I  was  not  aware  —  I  did  not  intend  — " 
she  began  —  and  he  thought  she  knew  perfectly 
that  silence  between  them  was  an  ultimate  inti 
macy, —  beyond  the  outer  barricades  of  speech, — 
for  which  neither  of  them  was  prepared.  It 
quickened  his  hope  of  danger,  for  if  she  was  an 
epicure  in  the  flavours  of  every  day,  she  was  more 
promising  of  danger  than  he  had  dared  even  to 
suspect  or  pray.  The  moon  had  risen,  ridiculous, 
at  the  full, —  with  that  leer  of  yellow  compla 
cency, — "  See,  he  is  the  Mona  Lisa  of  his  sex," 
Trent  scoffed,  as  it  staggered  over  the  hill  oppo 
site,  a  trifle  tipped  to  one  side. 

"  A  thousand  thanks  for  mocking  it,"  she  said 
soberly. 

"  Why  ?  "  He  believed  he  knew,  but  he  might 
be  wrong. 


A  COMMENTARY  IN  CARDS         211 

Her  answer  was  a  sigh  suggestive  of  the  wasted 
hours  of  flower-scented  nights. 

"Are  you  tired  of  it,  too?  —  of  it  all  perhaps? 
Do  you  really  get  tired  of  things  as  I  do?  How 
sweet  of  you!  I  should  think  all  married  people 
would  " —  he  added  inconsequently. 

His  face  was  as  far  away,  yet  as  sympathetic,  as 
that  of  a  wistful  child,  when  he  said  it.  She 
looked  at  him  and  realised  how  close  the  resem 
blance  was  to  a  Carlo  Dolci  saint.  His  hair  was 
so  softly,  densely  black  against  his  temples  so  ex 
cessively  white,  and  thin  to  asceticism.  The  eyes 
came  nearer  being  soft  in  evening  light  than  she 
had  ever  seen  them  before,  and  they  did  not  mock, 
—  their  blue  only  deepened  wearily  under  the  long 
lashes.  The  nose  was  strong,  intellectually  high, 
and  the  mouth  the  feature  that  claimed  her  and 
would  not  let  her  go.  There  was  a  way  the  upper 
lip  had,  of  curving  up  at  the  right  corner,  that 
made  the  smile  bewilderingly  sweet  and  every  tran 
sient  expression  beguiling.  It  lost  nothing  in 
character  from  its  innate  beauty.  It  could  be  cut 
ting  as  well;  keen,  satiric  to  discomfort  when  he 
willed.  It  mocked  its  own  sweetness  and  beauty 
often,  as  if  in  disdain  of  so  feminine  a  charm  im 
posed  upon  the  most  masculine  of  men  without  his 
consent. 

"  Why  ?  "  she  asked  softly,  after  a  long  pause  in 


212  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

which   she   had  been   considering  his  proposition. 

"  Why  ?  Oh,  because  I  could  get  tired  of  any 
thing  I  was  bound  to.  I  hate  to  do  anything  for 
any  reason  except  because  I  happen  to  want  to. 
I  should  be  tired  of  anything  if  I  was  married 
to  it,—" 

"  If  you  were  very  *  amoureux,'  even  ?  " 

"  It  would  not  last  two  weeks.     It  never  does." 

"  Why  ?  "  she  asked  again,  she  who  never  ques 
tioned  ! 

"  On  the  general  principle,  I  suppose,  that 
Daphne  ought  to  run  if  Apollo  is  to  run  after  her. 
If  she  is  caught  of  course  he  stops  running.  Then 
it  is  all  over.  That  is,  unless  he  runs  after  an 
other  nymph — "  Their  eyes  met.  Stephanie  was 
trying  to  match  this  theory  with  Raleigh's  ex 
planation  of  the  American  idea,  in  different  terms, 
but  much  the  same  conclusion. 

"This  life  here  is  so  different  for  you!  How 
you  must  hate  the  monotony  of  it  all!  And  your 
old  life  was  so  brilliant, —  how  you  must  long  to 
go  back  to  it!  Don't  you  ever?  Won't  you 
ever  ?  "  He  forgot  his  manners  in  his  eagerness. 

"  I  was  so  very  tired  when  I  came  here, —  I 
wanted  only  to  rest,  only  the  absence  of  all  ex 
citement.  That  life  for  the  public  is  hard,  empty, 
of  all, —  and  after — " 

"  But  there  must  have  been  some  wonderful 
days  " —  he  insisted. 


A  COMMENTARY  IN  CARDS         213 

"  Nights,"  she  corrected.  His  eyes  blinked, 
dazed,  as  if  he  veered  from  the  audacity,  the  in 
timacy  of  the  suggestion,  of  which  she  seemed  en 
tirely  unconscious. 

"  Oh,  you  are  wonderful !  "  he  groaned. 

She  smiled  that  odd  smile  of  hers, —  that  con 
senting  smile  that  accepted  it,  knowing  it  was 
neither  legitimately  given  or  taken.  Her  mother's 
name  was  Pleasure,  and  surely  it  was  her  mother's 
smile, —  too  sweet  to  be  sound  at  the  core, —  too 
relenting,  too  assenting.  He  held  his  own  mouth 
firm  to  grimness  as  he  beheld  it,  but  with  effort. 

"  Don't  you  pity  the  people  who  do  not  dare 
play  with  their  emotions  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  As  much  as  I  adore  those  who  dare  every 
thing!  I  detest,  most  of  all  beings,  a  coward  who 
is  afraid  of  any  danger, — " 

"  Even  one  who  is  afraid  of  the  situation  chang- 
ing?" 

"  Most  of  all,  that  person  who  is  afraid  of 
change,  and  ruins  the  present  by  some  dread  of 
what  is  to  come." 

"  We  are  so  absurdly  alike, —  in  some  ways !  " 

"  You  find  it  so  ?  Christine  said,  more  than 
once,  to  me, — '  you  will  like  Jim's  brother, —  he 
never  says  what  he  means  any  more  than  you  do, 
—  a'nd  he  never  means  the  same  thing  on  two  fol 
lowing  occasions.'  Is  it  true?" 

"  Perhaps.     I  am  not  so  sure.     I  know  the  only 


214  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

marriage  ceremony  I  could  subscribe  to,  would  go 
something  like  this: 

"  To  love  or  to  lose,  for  poetry  or  for  prose  —  for 
roses  or  for  thorns, —  till  life  do  us  part  —  and  hereupon 
I  give  thee  my  lips,  if  not  my  heart." 

"  Ah,  yes,"  she  said  sadly,  with  one  of  her  sud 
den  transitions  of  mood,  "  that  is  the  tragedy  of  it 
all,  for  souls  like  ours.  We  may  swear  to-night, 
• —  and  we  are  so  made,  that  by  to-morrow  our  fate 
may  have  overtaken  us  in  some  new  form.  How 
to  defend  oneself  from  the  new  charm?  That  is 
the  affair  of  most  importance  ?  Yes  ?  " 

"  Please  do  not  be  serious,"  he  begged  her, — 
"  do  let  us  laugh  while  we  live,  lest  we  should  cry 
over  the  joy  never-lasting." 

A  week  followed  in  which  he  either  was,  or  was 
playing,  dead  to  the  world,  though  at  Grandee's 
request  she  wrote  him  herself,  bidding  him  to  din 
ner  with  the  rest.  Joel  found  her  one  morning  in 
the  garden  with  the  manner  of  one  who  has  lost 
something  and  is  seeking  it  even  in  improbable 
places.  She  had  stopped  short,  when  he  noticed 
her,  and  stood  looking  down  into  the  heliotrope 
but  not  seeing  it. 

"  Lost  something,  Mrs.  Payne  ?  "  he  enquired, 
having  a  question  or  two  he  wanted  to  edge  in 
about  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  if  it  came  right. 

"  Thank  you,  no  Joel,  I  have  found  something  " 


A  COMMENTARY  IN  CARDS         215 

—  she  said  radiantly.  She  went  quickly  away 
then,  without  explaining  that  after  continued  un 
successful  effort  she  had  visualised  Trent's  mouth 
for  the  first  time. 

That  night  the  telephone  rang  up,  when  Steven 
Randall  had  gone  to  bed  earlier  than  usual,  with  a 
sleeping  potion  and  a  French  novel  beside  him. 

Stephanie  waited,  then  answered  herself,  which 
was  unprecedented  for  her. 

"  Allo,  Allo !  "  she  called  in  the  French  fashion. 

"  Is  this  heaven  ?  "  cried  Trent's  voice.  "  Give 
me  peacock,  amethyst,  and  flame,  please !  " 

"  There  is  some  mistake.  This  is  Mrs.  Raleigh 
Payne  speaking,"  she  said  primly. 

"Oh,  is  that  you,  Joy  of  Living?  How  well 
you  are  looking  to-night !  " 

Infected  by  his  caprice  she  called  back  — "  No, 
it  is  joy  of  dying! " 

"  Well,  then,  '  let  joy  be  unconfined  ' ;  I  am  com 
ing  up  to  read,"  and  he  rang  off  before  she  could 
prevent  or  prohibit. 


CHAPTER  XII 

FORGETTING 

I  FORGOT  all  about  your  note.  I  hope 
Newbold  told  you,"  he  said  after  the  first 
greeting. 

"  Mr.  Randall  regretted  that  you  did  not  find  it 
possible  to  accept  his  invitation  for  dinner,"  she 
replied  without  comment. 

"  I  do  so  hate  to  promise  ahead  to  go  any 
where, —  it  is  dreadful  to  have  an  engagement 
hanging  over  you,"  he  confided,  sure  of  her  sym 
pathy. 

"  We  should  not  have  wished  to  be  something 
hanging  over  you,"  she  assured  him. 

"  And  you  are  not  vexed  with  me  for  forgetting 
your  note  ?  " 

"  I  adored  your  forgetting  it.  Of  all  the  men  I 
have  ever  met,  you  are  the  first  to  do  just  that." 

"  Yes,  I  put  it  in  my  pocket  and  never  thought 
of  it  again  until  I  wanted  some  more  paper  to  take 
notes  on,"  he  explained  contentedly. 

"  Is  it,  perhaps,  that  you  would  never  have 
thought  to  come  again,  if  you  had  failed  that 
necessity  ?  " 

"  O,  something  might  have  reminded  me.  It  is 
216 


FORGETTING  217 

just  possible  that  it  might.  I  remember  now  being 
all  but  sure  it  was  from  you,  and  saving  it  until 
the  next  to  the  last  -of  my  mail.  There  was,  I 
think,  that  morning  a  letter  from  home,  some  invi 
tations  to  weddings  and  things,  a  letter  from  Chris 
tine's  sister  and  that  one  from  you." 

"  And  you  read  mine  the  next  to  the  last, —  one 
is  not  impressed  by  your  eagerness." 

"  But  I  never  read  the  best  first.  I  save  it  al 
ways  ! " 

"  And  is  it  permitted  one  to  demand  who  had  the 
honour  to  come  last,  that  morning  of  my  unfortu 
nate  invitation  for  dinner  ?  " 

"  Of  course  it  was  a  catalogue  of  rate  books  for 
sale.  I  never  get  the  emotion  out  of  anything  I 
do  out  of  a  book  catalogue,  do  you  ?  of  rare  editions 
I  mean.  And  when  I  actually  see  them,  my  knees 
shake  and  I  tremble  all  over." 

"  I  never  have  experienced  it, —  I  believe,"  she 
admitted  cautiously. 

"  Then  you  have  missed  one  of  the  keenest  emo 
tions  in  life,  probably  the  very  keenest  of  all." 

"  You  speak  so  often  of  emotion, —  I  am  afraid 
I  do  not  understand  about  it,  in  the  same  sense, — 
what  it  means  —  " 

"  Why,  music  is  emotion, —  real  music,  especially 
Tristan, —  and  all  the  poets  that  make  pleasure 
sparkles  tingle  in  your  blood,  and  Mass  is  emotion 
in  another  form,  and  sudden  intimacies  of  the  in- 


218  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

expressible,  and  —  everything  that  makes  one  for 
get  duty  and  the  golden  rule  and  to-morrow  morn- 
ing!" 

"  Ah,  but  yes, —  I  see,  it  is  indeed  another  way 
of  saying  sin  " —  she  said  slowly.  "  The  blessed 
Imitation  warns  one  from  all  such  excess  of  the 
imagination.  One  may  not  indulge  oneself  in 
such,  without  reproach."  Trent  stared  at  her. 

"  What  do  you  know  about  the  Imitation  ?  "  he 
asked  in  amazement. 

"  It  is  my  companion  always,  my  book  of  life. 
In  the  convent  we  are  taught  to  respect  and  love 
and  trust  its  guidance  wholly,  without  question." 

"  The  world  would  stop  if  its  precepts  were  lit 
erally  obeyed." 

"  Perhaps  the  world  would  not  go  as  fast  as 
now, —  perhaps  it  would  be  better  for  contempla 
tion  and  control." 

"  O  you  are  wonderful ! "  he  repeated  help 
lessly.  "  Who  would  ever  have  dreamed  you  even 
in  his  waking  moments?  If  you  are  going  to  turn 
out  to  be  a  saint,  it  is  all  over  with  me!  But  if 
you  are  going  in  for  asceticism  I  shall  go  in  for 
character.  And  it  is  such  an  ungraceful  role ! " 

"  You  have  been  going  into  the  world  very  much, 
since  we  have  seen  you,  have  you  not?"  she  said, 
leaving  the  subject  with  a  sudden  discretion. 

"  Yes,  of  course.  I  have  many  friends  here  in 
the  hills,  and  they  are  very  good  to  me." 


FORGETTING  219 

"  Then  you  have  not  been  working  all  the  time, 
as  Mr.  Newbold  said  ?  " 

"A  man  has  to  be  decent." 

"  Naturally.  And  you  must  amuse  yourself  very 
much  in  your  American  society.  The  young  girls 
are  so  little  guarded  and  so  completely  the  com 
panions  of  the  young  men." 

"  You  know  it  is  all  deadly  to  me !  "  he  contra 
dicted,  with  a  sharp  change  of  base.  "  You  are 
utterly  tyrannical !  Are  you  quite  satisfied  now 
that  you  have  spoiled  everything  else  for  me  ?  " 

"  Everything  else  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  everywhere  else  and  everyone  else ! 
I  used  to  quite  like  the  set  here,  and  now  they  bore 
me  to  tears,  and  it  is  all  your  fault !  " 

"  What  are  you  saying  to  me  ?  " 

"  You  are  so  selfish,"  he  went  on.  "  You  have 
nothing  to  do  but  play  music  and  pick  flowers  and 
cavil  at  a  poor  hard-working  student,  who  must 
toil  for  his  living  and  who  must  not  insult  his 
friends,  because  he  may  vulgarly  need  them  to 
(  earn  his  bread  and  butter  from  later  on !  Now, 
of  course,  you  are  a  very  wonderful  person  to 
know, —  and  I  should  die  and  be  Carthage  in  ruins 
if  I  could  not  come  here  to  Sky  High,  which  is 
probably  the  most  alluring  spot  on  the  earth, —  but 
I  have  to  earn  my  living  and  I  cannot  be  here  all 
the  time  for  several  reasons, —  much  as  I  should 
like  to." 


220  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

She  unnerved  him  by  her  utter  sweetness,  saying, 
"  It  is  true.  I  believe  I  have  been  egoistic  and 
a  tyrant.  Forgive  me !  I  did"  not  realize  it." 

"  Oh  Lord  protect  me ! "  he  implored,  "  I  in 
tended  to  produce  a  scene  for  the  sheer  joy  of 
seeing  you  angry  and  you  become  full  of  com 
punction,  humble,  self-accusing!  Oh,  I  am  Car 
thage  in  ruins !  I  am  a  lost  man  if  this  goes  on !  " 

He  was  a  lost  man  anyway.  She  suspected  it, 
if  he  did  not. 

"  You  treat  me  so !  "  he  next  protested,  "  I  fully 
expect  every  time  I  come  here  you  will  trot  me 
on  your  knees  before  I  get  away.  You  never  treat 
Newbold  so ! " 

"  But  I  do  not  receive  Mr.  Newbold  as  I  do 
you." 

"Why?" 

"  Because, —  because  he  is  older.  It  would  not 
be  the  same  thing." 

"  I  do  not  care  for  the  way  I  am  treated." 

"  Then  why  do  you  come  ?  " 

"  I  have  not." 

"But  now,  to-night?." 

"  Because  I  revel  in  sensations  and  I  find  them 
here." 

"  What  a  strange  reason !  " 

"Why  do  men  ever  go  to  see  women, —  then?" 

"  For  repose, —  or  amusement, —  one  would  love 


FORGETTING  221 

so  much  to  be  able  to  give  peace."  Her  convent 
voice  and  manner  enveloped  her  as  she  spoke. 

"  You  never  will !  except  that  you  pass  under 
standing." 

"  Then  it  is  for  me  only  to  be  gay.  But  you 
are  not  gay  to-night,  though  you  make  a  pretense 
of  it,"  she  insisted. 

"  I  am  gay,"  he  retorted,  "  I  am  very  gay, —  as 
gay  as  a  mirthful  misrecordia.  I  ought  not  to  have 
come.  Why  did  you  make  me  come  ?  " 

"  Why  should  you  not  have  come  ?  "  she  disre 
garded  everything  else  he  had  said. 

"  Because  it  is  going  to  be  a  sin, —  sometime  if 
not  now." 

"  I  am  not  sure  if  you  would  recoil  from  what 
you  believed  to  be  sin.  Tell  me  if  you  think  that 
you  would  ?  " 

"  That  would  depend  on  whether  it  was  man 
or  woman." 

"  I  suppose  God  is  angry  with  us  when  we  sin, — 
when  we  give  ourselves  over  to  our  own  happi 
ness  — " 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  never  feel  so  near  God  as 
when  I  am  happiest.  I  am  happy  now,  are  you  ?  " 

"  Not  if  you  are  really  angry  and  impatient  with 
me.  But  it  seemed  to  me  so  little  to  exact, —  only 
that  you  will  be  always  bored  where  I  am  not." 

"  It  is  always  a  bore  where  you  are  not.     And 


222  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

yet  you  wonder  that  the  women  hate  you  ? "  he 
sighed. 

"  I  hope  they  do  not." 

"  You  know  they  do." 

"  Christine  Trent  has  too  much  character  to  be 
so  unjust.  Grandee  says  so." 

"  She  may  have  told  him  so,  but  that  proves 
nothing." 

"  Won't  you  begin  to  read,  please  ?  " 

He  opened  the  book  and  settled  down  into  his 
chair,  having  arranged  all  the  cushions  within  reach 
behind  his  head. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  read  to  you  any  more  after 
to-night,"  he  announced.  "  You  remember,  per 
haps,  what  happened  to  a  certain  Paolo  and  Fran- 
cesca  who  read  aloud  once  too  often?" 

Her  eyes  danced.  She  found  him  a  gayer  play 
fellow  than  even  those  old  Viennese  mirrors  of  her 
childhood.  Yes,  surely  gayer  even  than  the  foun 
tains. 

"  Was  it  not  too  amiable  of  Paolo  to  accompany 
Francesca  to  perdition  ?  "  she  cried,  "  so  many  men 
would  have  exclaimed  '  place  aux  dames  1 '  and  re 
mained  themselves  behind." 

"  It  was  rather  decent  of  him,"  he  admitted 
coldly. 

"  The  only  sad  thing  about  death  is  that  one  is 
obliged  to  do  it  alone,"  she  ventured  timidly.  "  I 
am  afraid  of  being  alone.  I  am  afraid  of  myself." 


FORGETTING  223 

"  It  does  lack  mutuality,  but  so  do  other  things," 
he  suggested.  "  You  recall  the  objection  of  Au- 
cassin  to  heaven,  do  you  not?  As  a  place  where 
there  were  no  lovely  lovers?" 

"  If  you  are  not  disposed  to  read,  shall  I  perhaps 
play  ? "  she  proposed.  "  I  hear  the  rain  and  it 
drops  on  my  heart,  like  Verlaine's.  I  cannot  en 
dure  it  to-night." 

"  It  is  good  to  forget " —  was  all  he  said  when 
she  finally  ceased.  "  Euripides  knew  it,  when  he 
said — 

" '  To  sink  the  fretful  day  in  cool  forgetting. 

Is  there  any  way  with  man's  sore  heart,  save   only 
to  forget ?'" 

and  went  absent-mindedly  home  in  the  dark  and 
rain,  leaving  his  hat  on  the  hall  table. 

And  her  own  heart  quivered  at  the  thought. 
Was  it  forgetting?  Who?  What?  Music  is  said 
to  be  an  indiscreet  confidence, — "  but  I  am  a 
ghost !  "  she  protested  to  her  heart.  "  I  am  dead  and 
buried.  There  is  nothing  for  me  but  this  living 
death.  For  me  all  is  finished."  And  then  over 
whelmingly  rushed  the  persistent  uncertainty  as  to 
her  present  wisdom  in  remaining  in  America,  when 
Raleigh  had  wished  her  to  return  to  Europe  with 
him.  Why,  after  all,  was  she  here?  Because  she 
was  afraid  to  take  the  risk  of  increasing  the 
chances  her  presence  would  involve?  If  some 
stranger  should  speak  the  name  Nicholas  Heath- 


224  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

leagh  had  at  last  withheld,  ought  she  not  to  have 
been  there  at  the  moment  to  explain  and  extenu 
ate?  And  yet  how  could  she  support  the  intimacy 
of  a  lover's  journey  with  a  man  who  had  in  fact 
stolen  from  the  dead  ?  And  that  too,  with  the  boast 
of  his  own  honour  forever  on  his  pharisaical  lips! 
"  Perhaps  I  shall  die  before  he  returns."  "  Per 
haps  something  will  happen  " —  she  relied  now  on 
the  uncertainty  of  fate,  as  much  as  she  in  other  di 
rections  and  relations  dreaded  its  interference. 

She  met  Lawrence  Trent  next  at  a  garden  party 
at  Christine's,  where  they  avoided  each  other  and 
both  went  home  irritated  and  wondering  "  what 
have  /  done  to  deserve  offence?"  Trent  devoted 
himself  to  a  pretty  and  inferior  little  creature,  the 
mere  male  aroused  dispassionately,  but  proud  to 
perceive  his  effect.  Which  seemed  to  Stephanie 
a  reflection  upon  herself  and  a  limitation  of  him. 
It  was  Newbold  who  took  advantage  of  the  ensu 
ing  indifference.  He  not  only  went  up  to  Sky 
High  oftener,  but  he  dragged  Trent  in  his  wake  to 
all  sorts  of  functions  elsewhere,  and  preached  at 
him  the  value  of  the  general  in  social  relations.  The 
world  might  have  come  to  an  end  there,  for  these 
so  ill-regulated  and  wilful  spirits,  had  not  Gran 
dee  emerged  from  his  eyrie  and  given  a  large 
dinner.  They  were  separated  by  the  whole  table's 
length,  and  only  one  swift  glance  united  them,  as 
they  happened  to  raise  their  glasses  at  the  same  in- 


FORGETTING  225 

stant.  But  it  rewarded  them  amply  for  their 
wasted  evening.  Trent's  glance,  passing  swiftly 
to  Newbold,  detected  observation  of  the  incident, 
which  slight  as  it  was,  he  preferred  to  have  go  un 
observed.  Stephanie  chatted  on  unconcernedly,  as 
if  she  had  merely  tossed  a  bon-bon  to  a  good  child 
who  had  been  patient  under  exasperating  condi 
tions.  He  was  puzzled  to  decide  whether  her  cas 
ual  manner  was  studied,  or  unintentional,  or  if  she 
too  had  divined  the  instant  importance  of  not  be 
ing  in  earnest,  under  those  odd  eyes  of  Archie 
Newbold,  that  so  rarely  looked  at  what  they  saw, 
and  saw  most  clearly  by  indirection.  He  saved  the 
thrill  of  that  unmasked  moment  to  re-capture  later, 
when  he  might  safely  dare  to  let  himself  go  to  the 
physical  sensation  and  the  import  of  the  impulse  so 
spontaneously  indulged  by  both.  The  next  time  he 
came  to  Sky  High  it  was  to  read  to  her  as  imper 
sonally  as  if  he  had  been  entertaining  an  aged  rela 
tive.  No  hint  of  themselves  betrayed  either  by 
manner  or  inclination.  He  read  on  and  on.  She 
knew  that  he  had  forgotten  her,  his  young  face 
grown  studious  and  keen  as  he  read,  regardless 
that  the  language  was  almost  meaningless  to  his 
single  listener.  But  Stephanie  watched  his  mouth 
for  her  pleasure,  and  knew  he  was  not  with  Nina, 
or  any  other  girl,  and  that  was  enough  to  get  from 
any  one  form  of  enjoyment.  Last  of  all,  at  her  re 
quest,  he  read  a  few  pages  of  the  "  Imitation," — on 


226  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

"The  Royal  Way  of  the  Cross."  His  voice  was 
desperately  sweet  and  passionless,  and  possessed  by 
the  sacred  import  of  the  words.  She  had  overcome 
all  obstacles  put  in  her  way  and  been  across  coun 
try  to  a  Catholic  .church  that  morning,  he  had  re 
ceived  at  the  early  communion  in  the  rustic  chapel 
supported  by  the  summer  colony,  and  they  both 
warmed  themselves  in  the  safety  of  their  modera 
tion,  and  the  feeling  of  spiritual  comprehension  be 
tween  them,  devoid  of  all  more  violent  charm. 

"  It  has  been  very  blessed,  to-night,"  Trent  told 
her,  as  he  went  away.  But  half  way  down  the  hill 
he  had  paused  and  nearly  gone  back.  His  sense  of 
humour  made  the  evening  the  most  screaming  farce 
he  had  ever  played,  as  he  lived  it  over  in  memory. 
He  turned  as  if  to  follow  his  mood, —  then  the  vil 
lage  clock  struck  soberly,  steadfastly,  and  he  turned 
back  with  a  gay  smile  on  his  lips  and  a  light  of  ut 
ter  mischief  in  his  deep  eyes. 

It  was  not  that  Trent  was  a  hypocrite,  or  under 
bred  or  any  of  the  double-hearted  types  described, 
by  those  who  fail  to  like  them,  as  insincere.  He 
was  perfectly  sincere, —  only  his  sincerity  was  true 
to  as  many  moods  in  their  passing  as  there  are 
sands  on  the  shore  of  the  sea.  He  was  true  to  his 
reactions  as  well  as  his  positives,  and  his  own  per 
sonal  pendulum,  having  swung  as  far  as  it  could 
in  one  direction,  was  inevitably  bound  to  swing  as 
far  in  the  other.  In  his  relations  with  Mrs.  Ra- 


FORGETTING  227 

leigh  Payne  he  was  not  prepared  for  such  extrem 
ity  of  piety, —  without  its  rewarding  excess  of 
something  very  much  the  reverse.  And  of  this  he 
either  had  been  cheated  by  taking  her  too  seriously, 
or  had  cheated  himself  by  going  home  too  soon. 
He  wished  very  much  to  know  how  it  had  left  her. 
And  if  she  was  laughing  at  him  too. 

Stephanie  was  not  laughing,  however.  She 
knew  him  to  be  a  rarely  devoted  churchman,  fast 
ing  before  mass  like  any  Catholic,  and  with  a  seren 
ity  on  his  pale  face  afterward,  which  she  associated 
only  with  her  saints.  He  looked  too  frail  at  times. 
It  made  her  shudder,  remembering  an  ascetic  young 
priest  who  had  fasted  himself  into  an  ecstatic  death, 
—  when  Trent  with  a  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling 
would  become  so  worldly,  so  luxurious,  so  sophis 
ticated,  so  utterly  unreasonable,  ill-natured  and  diffi 
cult,  that  she  was  ashamed  of  her  spiritualisation  of 
his  unreliable  if  appealing  individuality. 

Newbold  had  told  her  that  his  career  was  as  yet 
wavering  between  the  priesthood  and  the  literary 
profession  but  not  to  so  remain  beyond  the  next  few 
months.  And  Trent  himself  had  told  her,  very 
amusingly,  of  his  playing  priest  in  childhood,  and 
refusing  to  "  swop  "  the  benediction  for  the  pater 
noster,  in  the  sacred  rites  of  the  nursery,  where  he 
ruled  as  Pope  even  over  his  older  brother  Jim. 
Remmington,  in  describing  their  arrangement  of  the 
Squirrel's  Nest,  had  given  her  yet  another  vista, 


228  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

when  he  explained  that  he  himself  slept  out  of  doors 
and  Newbold  in  a  hammock  on  the  piazza,  but  Trent 
in  a  narrow  cell  of  a  room  on  an  iron  bed, — like  any 
Franciscan.  It  was  as  hard  to  reconcile  his  personal 
habits  of  Spartan  restriction  with  his  love  of  lux 
ury  and  self-indulgence,  as  it  was  to  follow  the 
vagaries  of  his  conflicting  temperament.  Here,  the 
Catholic  side  of  Stephanie  grasped  him  by  sympa 
thetic  intuition  as  no  one  of  the  Americans  nearest 
him  could  ever  hope  to  do.  The  fasting  before  a 
feast,  the  system  of  penance  and  indulgence,  the 
trance  of  the  High  Mass,  and  the  exercise  of  emo 
tion  in  all  the  successive  celebrations  of  her  reli 
gion  enabled  her  to  appreciate  phases  of  his  tran 
sient  experience,  as  would  otherwise  have  been  be 
yond  her  reach. 

At  last,  when  July  was  spent,  there  came  a  night 
when  Grandee  had  retired,  when  prose  was  laid 
aside  and  he  read  recklessly  into  the  heart  of  poetry. 
Swinburne's  Tristram: 

"Love  that  is  first  and  last  of  all  things  tnade  — 
The  light  that  has  the  living  world  for  shade." 

"  I  am  thirsty,  may  I  have  something  to  drink?  "  he 
asked,  breaking  off  in  the  middle  of  a  line  — 

Together  they  silently  crossed  the  hall  into  the 
deserted  dining-room.  On  the  table  stood  a  loving 
cup  filled  with  crimson  roses.  There  was  wine  on 


FORGETTING  229 

the  sideboard, —  she  brought  several  decanters  her 
self,  not  caring  to  summon  a  servant  at  that  hour, 
and  placed  two  heavy  gold-chased  glasses  beside 
them. 

They  sat  down,  Trent  at  one  end,  Stephanie  at 
the  side.  She  laid  her  hand  on  the  white  wine,  but 
he  saw  it  and  poured  both  their  glasses  to  the  brim 
with  red,  without  consulting  her  taste.  The  poetry, 
that  was  in  her  eyes  and  in  his  blood  perhaps, 
seemed  also  in  those  crimson  goblets  waiting  for 
their  red  lips. 

"  What  a  perfect  eve  of  Saint  Agnes !  "  he  sighed, 
sinking  luxuriously  back  in  Grandee's  great  chair 
with  a  little  murmur  of  voluptuous  satisfaction. 
"  May  I  smoke  ?  Incense  is  really  necessary  to 
such  perfection.  And  you  ?  "  offering  her  his  cig 
arette  case  as  he  spoke  — 

"  No,  not  now, —  not  here,  ever  " —  she  added 
truthfully.  He  was  instantly  conscious  how  well 
she  might  lie ;  approved  and  appreciated  the  reverse 
quality  of  such  painstaking  truth-telling  about  noth 
ing,  to  a  nicety.  To  Trent's  mind  truth  in  a 
woman,  carried  too  far,  dulled  the  edge  of  hus 
bandry.  He  told  her  so,  trying  to  make  her  catch 
his  notion. 

"  And  what  does  husbandry  do  ?  "  she  inquired, 
rather  confused  by  the  word. 

"  Husbandry  ?  Oh,  husbandry  dulls  the  edge  of 
everything,"  he  assured  her,  laughing. 


230  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

"  But  you  are  sure  you  do  not  mind  my  smoking  ? 
Please  be  honest  about  that !  " 

"  I  adore  it,  on  the  contrary.  Blow  the  least  lit 
tle  breath  of  it  to  me !  " 

He  blew  a  ring  of  the  faint  smoke  over  to  her. 
She  inhaled  it  daintily,  indicating  its  pleasurable- 
ness  by  one  word  — "  Delicious !  " 

He  repeated  it,  as  she  drew  the  roses  toward  her 
and  buried  her  face  in  them. 

"  Encore !  "  she  begged,  leaning  toward  him,  and 
again  the  breath  of  blue  smoke  encircled  her,  wind 
ing  about  her  and  through  the  red  roses  near  her 
breast,  lightly  as  some  hovering  butterfly. 

Her  face  relaxed  softly.  It  impressed  Trent  sud 
denly  as  the  most  intimate  thing  he  had  ever  done, 
or  seen  done  on  the  stage,  in  all  his  life.  It  gave 
him  a  perceptible  shock  of  something  that  was  like 
fright,  but  the  wine  excited  him  beyond  caring  for 
that  or  any  other  warning. 

"  It  is  like  throwing  kisses,"  he  said,  his  eyes 
brilliant  with  his  own  daring. 

She  smiled  that  strange,  wholly  provoking  smile 
of  hers. 

"  It  is  not  so  unlike  Europe,  here,  to-night  with 
us,  after  all,"  she  said  happily,  nestling  in  a  rap 
turous  little  way  of  her  own  in  her  chair, — "  I  was 
never,  before  Sky  High,  accustomed  to  these  long 
sad  hours  of  summer.  Abroad  one  goes  at  even 
ing  to  hear  music,  you  know?  To  take  supper,  to 


FORGETTING  231 

drink  liqueur,  or  to  promenade  or  admire  some 
spectacle.  One  dines  late  and  sits  by  some  lake  to 
be  enchanted  by  the  gardens  and  the  fountains  out 
under  the  stars.  I  love  best  the  night,  in  Europe. 
If  I  had  been  God,  I  am  quite  sure  I  should  never 
have  thought  to  make  the  night, —  it  is  too  beauti 
ful, —  and  for  it  I  adore  Him  most." 

"  And  I  should  never  have  thought  to  make  day." 

"  But  yes,  the  day  to  sleep,  or  dream,  is  also 
necessary ! "  she  said  with  a  shrug  and  smile. 
They  raised  their  glasses,  eyes  deep  in  eyes.  He 
felt  her  gaze  all  through  him.  The  glance  ex 
changed  between  them  at  Grandee's  dinner  party 
had  merely  hinted  at  such  unmasking.  She  allowed 
her  own  emotion  to  blanche  her  slightly,  her  mouth 
giving  away  to  that  smile  he  dreaded,  yet  coveted, 
to  his  soul. 

"  It  is  so  strange  to  have  found  you  here  " —  he 
murmured.  "  I  have  always  known  there  must  a 
woman  like  you  exist, —  for  my  poets  knew  them, 
—  but  I  had  never  found  one  and  I  had  almost 
given  up  in  despair." 

"  But  I  knew  you  at  once,"  she  urged.  "  I  said, 
as  I  gave  you  my  hand  that  first  afternoon, —  if  I 
knew  you  and  loved  you  I  should  call  you  Gaston. 
I  knew  you  were  of  the  world  I  came  from,  and 
the  world  of  all  unreal  and  amiable  pleasures  that 
perish,  and  that  your  soul  had  also  its  altars  un 
seen  of  the  others, —  but  you — " 


232  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

He  did  not  let  her  finish  her  impression  of  him 
and  his  behaviour. 

"  I  saw  you  and  adored,  of  course,  that  first  day, 
but  I  thought  it  would  be  Newbold !  " 

"  He  is  altogether  charming,"  she  admitted,  as 
if  she  saw  in  her  statement  a  cause  for  inward  re 
gret. 

"  Women  generally  find  him  so." 

"But  you  could  never  be  jealous  of  him," — her 
eyebrows  arched  reproachfully. 

"  I  am  jealous  of  everybody,  even  of  Joel  Under 
wood  !  "  he  flung  out,  reluctantly. 

"Why?" 

She  leaned  toward  him  slightly,  across  the  roses, 
around  which  one  arm  was  curved.  For  an  in 
stant  his  heart  stopped  beating.  Her  mouth  was 
consenting.  Of  course  she  meant  nothing,  nothing. 
He  realised  it  even  before  he  began  to  breathe 
again. 

"  One  more  breath  of  your  cigarette,"  she  said. 
"  I  have  not  had  a  taste  for  so  long  a  time !  Mr. 
Payne  smokes  them  always,  but  Grandee  never,  and 
none  of  you  who  are  his  friends,  but  always  those 
great  cigars." 

The  mention  of  her  husband  sent  a  jagged  quiver 
of  jealousy  through  him.  He  leaned  a  little  for 
ward  and  blew  a  long  breath  of  smoke  deliberately 
through  the  roses  that  half  hid  her  face.  Their 
eyes  met  and  each  knew  what  the  other  read  therein. 


FORGETTING  233 

"  I  hate  you.  I  want  to  dance  with  you,"  —  he 
stammered, —  then  drawing  himself  to  his  feet,  "  I 
think  I  had  better  go  home  now.  Good-night." 

"  Yes,  you  had  better  go  home,"  she  said  gently. 
"  Good-night,  Gaston !  " 

Neither  glanced  at  the  other.  She  stood  motion 
less  until  he  had  gone  out  by  the  long  open  win 
dow,  then  turning  off  the  lights,  she  crept  noise 
lessly  up  to  her  own  room. 

It  was  midsummer,  and  no  rain  for  weeks  en 
suing  upon  that  night  when  Stephanie  had  played 
to  drown  the  rain  that  rained  on  her  heart.  The 
magic  of  midsummer  had  begun.  The  chestnut 
blooms  were  whitening  on  the  hillside,  till  when  the 
wind  blew  they  gave  her  the  feeling  of  flowing, 
crested  billows  on  a  far  French  coast.  All  day  the 
red  and  yellow  flowers  in  the  garden  reached  and 
leaned  toward  autumn,  and  stood  wakeful  and  unre- 
freshed  under  the  red  full-moon  all  night,  in  spite 
of  the  drenching  dews.  Joel  Underwood  fumed 
and  watered  and  inveighed  against  all  humanity, 
and  swore  under  his  breath  at  the  season's  failings. 
And  up  on  his  balcony  Steven  Randall  read,  and 
remembered,  and  grew  strong  enough  to  drive 
about  with  Stephanie  and  even  accept  a  quiet  in 
vitation  sometimes  or  profess  to,  perhaps  to  keep 
her  from  noticing  how  long  it  was  since  Raleigh 
had  gone,  and  how  little  his  reports  said  as  to  his 
return  dates.  Trent  seemed  to  be  devoting  him- 


234  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

self  to  Christine's  sister  Nina,  which  was  a  wise 
thing  to  do,  considering  the  wealth  that  every  one 
knew  was  to  be  hers  on  the  death  of  a  great-aunt, 
whose  will  was  made  in  Nina's  favour  and  lying  in 
the  safe  at  Jim  Trent's  town  office.  There  was  a 
hard  determination  in  the  boy's  bearing  that  wor 
ried  Remmington  sometimes.  There  were  nights 
when  sleep  did  not  settle  down  over  the  Squirrel's 
Nest  as  it  should,  and  Newbold,  stalking  from 
hammock  to  garden  wall,  encountered  another  rest 
less  apparition,  also  smoking,  and  took  occasion  to 
deliver  wise  discourses  on  the  art  of  being  general 
in  society;  keeping  away  from  Sky  High  himself 
for  ten  days, —  to  show  by  object  lessons  how  easily 
it  could  be  done.  Grandee  did  nothing  to  encour 
age  further  relations  and  the  summer  seemed  to 
have  stopped. 

It  was  Newbold  who  proposed  calling  on  Mr. 
Randall  and  Mrs.  Payne,  the  evening  after  Law 
rence  Trent  had  announced  he  was  off  to  the  sea 
for  a  change  of  air.  Trent  considered  the  sugges 
tion  intrusive,  but  would  not  commit  himself  by  an 
appearance  of  wishing  to  go  alone.  The  call  was 
a  gay  one,  for  they  were  out  on  the  terrace,  with 
Randall  in  unusually  good  spirits  and  Stephanie  un 
affectedly  glad  to  break  the  fast  of  their  absence. 
When  the  clock  struck  ten  they  rose  to  go.  The 
conversation  had  been  entirely  general.  They 
made  their  good-nights  without  asides  or  any  de- 


FORGETTING  235 

viation  from  the  commonplace.  Half  way  down 
the  hill  Newbold  remarked  on  the  fact  that  Trent 
had  made  no  mention  of  his  leaving  next  day. 

"  That  is  so.  Do  you  suppose  they  will  think  it 
brutally  rude  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  If  you  really  are  not  coming  back,  it  does  look 
so, —  at  least  it  is  queer,  after  the  hospitality  you 
have  taken  from  them  the  last  two  months." 

"  I  suppose  it  is.  The  fact  is,  I  was  thinking 
about  other  things  all  the  time  we  were  up  there 
to-night." 

"  Then  why  not  go  back  ?  It  is  early  yet.  It 
would  not  take  but  a  few  minutes  and  I  will  wait 
for  you." 

"  No,  go  on  home,"  Trent  said,  as  he  turned  and 
left  him. 

Five  minutes  later  he  was  back  on  the  terrace. 
He  stood  facing  the  lighted  drawing-room,  his 
arms  tightly  folded,  as  if  to  steady  his  purpose. 
Stephanie  was  there  alone,  Steven  Randall  having 
already  withdrawn. 

She  seemed  to  take  his  reappearance  for  granted. 

"  I  came  back  because  I  forgot  to  tell  Mr.  Ran 
dall  that  I  came  to  say  good-bye,  to-night.  I  have 
found  it  necessary  to  be  off  immediately, —  family 
matters,  and  all  that  sort  of  bother.  I  wish  you 
would  express  to  him  my  thanks  for  all  his  kind 
ness.  I  shall  hope  to  meet  him  again,  somewhere." 

He  did  not  express  the  least  regret  or  the  least 


236  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

inclination  to  ever  see  Sky  High  or  Stephanie  again. 
None  are  so  stern,  so  cruel,  so  uncompromising  as 
the  young  under  conviction. 

As  for  her,  what  could  she  say?  There  was 
nothing  she  might  say  without  loss  of  dignity,  how 
ever  she  might  feel.  She  ventured  only  upon  a 
conventional  wish  for  his  enjoyment  during  the 
rest  of  the  summer. 

"  Enjoyment ! "  he  jerked  out  against  his  will. 
"  I  told  you  you  had  spoiled  everything  for  me.  I 
do  not  want  to  go  away  and  enjoy  myself.  I  hate 
you ! " 

"  That  is  like  an  American  man,  to  go  to  one 
place  when  he  wishes  to  remain  in  another ! "  she 
mocked. 

"  If  I  stay  here  I  am  afraid  it  will  change,  and 
it  has  been  too  perfect."  He  still  kept  his  arms 
folded  and  his  mouth  set  defiantly. 

"  And  if  it  must  change,  since  all  changes,  why 
not  let  it  grow  ?  "  she  asked,  her  voice  sinking  to  a 
thread. 

"  I  am  afraid  to  let  it  grow." 

There  came  a  long  pause  like  a  shadow  of  fate. 

"  So,  I  am  going,"  Trent  said.  "  May  I  have  a 
rose?" 

"  But  you  will  never  wear  one, —  you  have  al 
ways  refused  before — " 

"  I  want  this  one  though, —  I  will  wear  this  one." 
She  gave  it  to  him  silently.  He  placed  it  inside  his 


FORGETTING  237 

coat,  out  of  range  of  Newbold's  inquisitive  eyes. 
They  both  knew  it  was  not  the  first  he  had  worn 
there,  or  kept  with  him  through  the  soft  summer 
night. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  said. 

"  One  moment,"  she  begged, —  leaving  him  where 
he  stood.  She  hardly  knew  herself  what  she  in 
tended.  She  passed  straight  to  the  sideboard  in 
the  dining-room,  and  returned  to  him  motionless  by 
the  balustrade,  with  a  glass  of  red  wine  in  her 
hand.  A  moonbeam  struck  through  the  crystal  as 
she  held  it  out  to  him  with  the  one  word  — 
"Drink!" 

He  drank  until  she  took  the  glass  from  him,  and 
draining  it  deliberately  to  the  last  drop,  let  it  fall 
to  the  stone  flagging.  It  shivered  in  a  thousand 
pieces.  Then  she  turned  from  him  without  a  word 
and  disappeared  into  the  house. 

Joel  Underwood  swept  it  up  next  morning,  but 
for  days  a  brilliant  spot  of  red  wine  clung  to  the 
flagging,  the  sole  reminder  of  that  one  for  whom 
the  moon  sought  through  the  garden  in  vain. 

Stephanie  waked  to  an  unfriendly  day  of  grey 
wind,  streaked  through  at  intervals  by  sunlight 
that  could  not  make  the  impression  less  ungracious. 
It  was  chilly  even  in  the  protected  terraces  of  the 
garden.  The  tall  foxgloves  swayed  awkwardly 
as  if  resentful  of  the  liberty  taken  with  them,  and 
the  porch  even  was  transformed  to  a  tempestuous 


238  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

storm  centre,  the  vines  clinging  to  the  posts  with 
all  their  slender  strength.  Even  association,  Ste 
phanie  felt,  was  being  swept  away  by  this  heart 
less  summer  gale  that  brought  none  of  the  longed- 
for  rain  to  ease  the  ailing  countryside.  To  sit  be 
hind  doors  was  unspeakable  to-day.  She  was  rest 
less,  undecided,  and  under  all  was  the  dull  wonder 
that  it  did  not  hurt  her  more.  So  the  "  grand  pas 
sion  "  had  been  but  a  passing  malady !  The  divine 
insomnia  had  merely  taught  him  how  to  dream 
more  profoundly.  She  turned  a  hard  face  toward 
the  red  roses  in  their  second  blooming,  whispering 
to  herself,  "  I  hate  you !  Oh,  mon  Dieu !  how  I 
hate  you ! "  and  then  sneered  at  herself  for  being 
melodramatic.  What  power  had  this  boy  to  make 
her  suffer  like  this?  She  did  not  want  to  be 
alone  here.  She  wanted  him  to  stay  and, —  he  had 
gone.  And  gone  to  Newport  to  a  house-party 
given  by  Nina's  great  aunt. 

She  read  again  the  letter  from  Raleigh  received 
the  night  before  — "  the  Ambassador  asked  for  you, 
with  a  thousand  compliments.  And  our  own  at 
tache  begged  his  '  devoirs.'  As  soon  as  the  new 
ministry  comes  in,  there  is  sure  to  be  an  effort  to 
get  us  back.  Graf  von  Hochreither  sends  you  his 
respectful  greetings, —  and  in  short  as  Shakespeare 
says,  my  dear  far-away  lady,  '  you  are  asked  for, 
and  sought  for,  and  called  for  and  longed  for  '  on 
all  sides.  And  why  not?  They  all  ask  why  you 


FORGETTING  239 

are  not  here  with  me, —  and  really,  most  charming 
Highness,  why  are  you  not?  A  kiss  for  your 
Serenity !  Should  you  like  me  to  accept  Buda  ?  " 

She  read  no  further.  Why  was  she  not  there 
with  him?  Too  many  answers  flung  themselves  in 
her  face  at  once  to  answer  clearly. 

Why  was  she  waiting  alone,  in  a  New  England 
solitude,  instead  of  shining  in  the  most  brilliant 
quarter  of  Europe  with  a  husband  who  was  com 
pletely  in  her  power?  "I  am  an  imbecile,"  she 
told  herself, —  as  Joel,  coming  upon  her  round  the 
shrubbery,  handed  her  a  yellow  telegram. 

It  had  no  beginning  or  end,  and  was  unsigned. 
She  read  the  six  words,  and  the  tide  rose  in  her 
heart,  for  she  knew  whose  plea  it  was  — 

"Write  me  things  about  yourself.    Amen." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A    WARNING 

DOCTOR  WYLIN  turned  back  a  second  and 
even  a  third  time,  before  he  left  his  private 
office.  The  October  sunshine,  that  hinted 
of  harvest  beyond  the  barren  city  streets,  failed 
of  his  usual  response.  His  office  hours  were  over. 
He  only  gave  consultation  by  appointment  and  his 
day  was  professionally  free  at  one  o'clock,  or  would 
have  been  if  he  could  resist  tearing  up  and  down 
the  avenues  and  cross-streets,  to  lay  his  finger  on 
a  pulse  here,  and  abbreviate  a  diet  there;  encour 
aging,  scolding,  inspiring  by  turns.  He  had  no  pa 
tience  with  ill  health  and  the  endless  stories  of 
jangled  nerves  poured  into  his  acute  ears.  If  peo 
ple  lived  decently  they  would  live  long  and  happily 
was  his  wide-spread  propaganda.  He  had  been 
preaching  it  all  his  life,  and  saw  no  abatement  of 
those  surest  symptoms  of  brain-fag  in  the  genera 
tions  on-coming  to  take  the  place  of  those  slipping 
under  the  wheels  of  ambition  every  day ;  symptoms 
which  he  detected  with  closed  eyes  often,  merely 
by  the  timbre  of  a  voice  that  did  not  carry  firm  to 
the  end  of  the  sentence,  an  uneven  point  of  view,  or 
that  irritable,  hasty  judgment  of  men  usually  and 

240 


A  WARNING  241 

normally  prudent,  until  overcome  by  the  stress  of 
hours  and  burden  of  responsibility.  Women,  Doc 
tor  Wylin  had  refused  to  treat  as  soon  as  his  skill 
had  put  him  in  a  position  to  dictate.  "  Any  charla 
tan  can  undo  my  work  in  an  hour  with  them, —  sci 
ence  is  only  their  latest  doll, —  when  I  tell  them  to  do 
house-work,  instead  of  prescribing  Aix  at  the 
height  of  the  season,  they  drop  me  instanter  for 
some  insinuating  chap  who  talks  to  them  about 
their  temperament,"  he  declared.  "  I  know  them, 
all  types  and  species.  When  I  find  one  worth  pre 
serving,  I  save  her.  You  remember  what  Leopardi 
said  to  the  beggar, —  when  the  creature  whined  for 
a  soldo  to  keep  his  life  in  his  body, —  'why?' 
And  there  were  few  of  his  friends  who  cared  to 
argue  against  him  on  his  favourite  theme.  Of 
course  he  was  a  bachelor  himself,  an  error  in  his 
theory  of  the  race  progression,  to  which  his  atten 
tion  had  been  called,  more  than  once  by  recalci 
trant  patients,  who  resented  some  of  his  blunt 
statements  as  to  their  real  needs  and  abuses." 

He  did  not  like  this  engagement  to  lunch  with 
Raleigh  Payne  at  the  University  Club  which  he  was 
just  about  to  keep,  because  he  was  fond  of  him,  as 
the  nephew  of  his  old  friend  Steven  Randall. 
Eliminating  business  interests  from  their  mutual 
relation,  what  was  there  left?  Pleasure,  neither 
his  host  or  himself  would  have  cut  out  of  the  heart 
of  the  day.  So  if  two  busy  men  were  to  sacrifice 


242  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

daylight  hours  it  must  be  the  professional  alterna 
tive, —  and  if  professional  it  could  mean  nothing 
less  than  the  inevitable  smash  he  had  been  dreading 
ever  since  he  last  met  Raleigh,  on  an  overland  lim 
ited  four  nights  out  from  Seattle  and  fuming  to 
make  an  engagement  in  Pittsburg,  that  even  with 
out  detention  it  would  not  have  been  within  human 
possibility  to  effect.  Else  why  should  the  appall 
ingly  busy  nerve-specialist  be  called  in  to  waste  his 
gold-minted  time  over  mere  eating? 

He  took  care  not  to  show  any  interest  in  Ra 
leigh's  external  appearance,  as  they  met.  There 
was  also  no  apparent  unconcern  in  the  way  he  dis 
regarded  the  towering  figure ;  no  subtle  intention 
visible  in  the  carelessness  of  their  greeting.  They 
settled  themselves  to  picking  out  their  lunch  in  a 
holiday  mood,  without  regard  to  dieting,  or  any 
nonsense  of  concession  to  their  physique.  Raleigh 
Payne's  personality  was  in  such  high  vibration  with 
realities,  it  kindled  a  contagious  response.  His  eyes 
were  bright,  his  appetite  keen. 

"  Never  better  in  my  life !  "  he  exclaimed  in  re 
sponse  to  the  usual  formula  as  to  his  own  condi 
tion,  following  upon  minute  enquiry  for  Steven 
Randall.  He  drew  his  fingers  across  his  brow 
and  temples,  as  he  spoke,  as  if  to  scatter  the  rem 
nant  of  a  mental  suggestion. 

"  Been  hard  at  it  to-day  ?  "  the  doctor  asked. 

"  Oh,  nothing  special.    These  electric  fans  are 


A  WARNING  243 

a  nuisance  always.  It  is  too  late  in  the  season  for 
them  any  way.  If  you  don't  mind  I  will  have  the 
nearest  one  stopped."  He  motioned  to  a  waiter, 
without  speaking,  and  instantly  the  whirling  tor 
ment  ceased.  Doctor  Wylin  noticed  that  the  servant 
had  understood  without  an  order.  That  meant  he 
had  stopped  it  before, —  and  that  meant  a  tired 
head  for  longer  than  to-day.  As  the  luncheon  pro 
gressed  the  doctor's  curiosity  increased.  How 
long  would  Payne  keep  it  up?  They  chatted  of 
politics,  of  business,  of  entirely  irrelevant  things, 
never  once  reaching  health.  Nothing  was  revealed, 
nothing  concealed,  yet  here  they  were,  two  of  the 
most  sought,  even  pursued  men  in  town  taking  the 
vitals  out  of  their  day  over  a  luncheon,  like  any 
two  frivolous  women! 

"  When  did  you  get  back  from  Europe  this  last 
time  ?  "  Doctor  Wylin  asked,  when  there  came  a 
pause  that  seemed  available  for  personalities. 

"  The  twentieth  of  September,"  Raleigh  replied, 
never  hazy  on  a  date  however  unimportant. 

"  Have  you  been  at  Sky  High  much  of  the  three 
weeks  since,  or  out  where  I  found  you,  between 
the  rising  and  setting  sun  ?  " 

"  Why,  no,  I  have  been  unlucky  about  getting 
any  rest  since  I  got  back,"  Raleigh  said,  frowning. 
"  We  docked  too  late  to  get  away  from  the  city 
that  night  and  I  got  caught  in  a  business  whirl  next 
day,  that  kept  me  down  all  the  week.  Then  I  ran 


244  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

up  and  had  been  there  about  three  hours  when  long 
distance  summoned  me  West,  and  since  I  saw  you, 
I  have  put  in  some  hard  work  at  Pittsburg,  and 
then  been  back  and  forth  to  Boston  a  couple  of 
times,  and  done  the  pipe-laying  for  the  annual 
meeting  of  a  big  company  I  am  interested  in  here, 
beside  getting  my  report  up  for  the  government. 
Of  course  that  is  the  thing  that  takes  head,  and  is 
of  the  first  importance,  the  rest  of  it  only  takes 
nerve." 

But  the  doctor  could  not  wait. 

"  You  gilded  monopolist.  I  have  got  to  be  off 
in  five  minutes.  What  is  the  trouble  with  you, 
Raleigh  Payne?  Got  a  touch  of  gout  or  con 
science  ?  Own  up  ?  " 

"  Nothing  in  the  least  the  trouble,  Doctor." 

"  Then  why  am  I  here  ?  " 

"  I  just  wanted  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you." 

"  You  mean  you  dreaded  the  sight  of  me  so,  you 
were  scared,  and  you  did  not  dare  stave  me  off 
any  longer!  Now  go  ahead,  what  bothers  you? 
It  won't  make  you  smash  any  sooner  to  be  honest 
about  it,  you  know,  so  don't  trouble  to  lie." 

"  Smash  ?  I  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it !  I  was  never 
better  physically  in  my  life !  "  The  doctor  sighed 
impatiently. 

"  Europe  is  full  of  men  who  said  that  to  me,  in 
just  the  same  way.  They  are  at  every  resort  on 
the  riviera  and  every  continental  '  cure.'  Look  for 


A  WARNING  245 

them  in  wheeled  chairs  when  the  day  is  mild,  wives 
and  attendants  following,"  Doctor  Wylin  remarked 
in  a  stage  aside. 

"  I  am  telling  you  the  truth, —  I  respect  you  too 
much  to  prevaricate  with  you,  Doctor.  I  am 
perfectly  fit  in  every  way, —  only  I  cannot  seem 
to  do  the  thing  I  am  immediately  doing,  with 
out  doing  two  or  three  things  ahead  at  the  same 
time." 

"Of  course." 

"If  I  attend  a  dinner,  for  example,  I  am  ahead 
of  it,  and  counting  it  off  from  my  engagement  list 
as  one  thing  more  done,  while  I  am  at  the  oysters. 
At  the  next  course,  I  am  mentally  at  the  club  keep 
ing  an  engagement  for  some  important  interview, 
and  home  and  in  bed  and  up  and  breakfasted  and 
off  again  at  the  next  day's  work." 

"  A  plain  case  of  anticipatory  absorption,"  the 
doctor  said,  smiling.  "  You  want  to  let  go.  It  is 
a  let-up  in  tension  you  need." 

"  I  knew  you  would  say  that.  I  have  tried,  but 
I  can't." 

"  How  seriously  have  you  tried  ?  " 

Raleigh  made  no  attempt  to  equivocate.  "  I  did 
not  mean  to  accept  that  last  European  commission," 
he  said  soberly.  "  I  wanted  to  take  Mrs.  Payne 
off  for  a  trip  somewhere,  away  from  all  business 
considerations.  But  my  ambition  got  in  between, 
and  she  would  not  go  in  the  way  I  was  obliged  to, 


246  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

or  thought  I  did  not  really  want  to  take  her  on  so 
hurried  a  trip, —  and  I  resolved  to  come  back  and 
drop  everything  for  a  holiday.  You  see  how  it 
has  resulted?  I  feel  the  walls  all  around  me  and  I 
cannot  seem  to  get  out  1  " 

"  Nonsense  1  You  have  money  and  reputation 
enough  to  satisfy  any  man, —  or  woman.  You 
are  in  the  Trust  muddle  now,  are  you  not?  But 
that  will  go  the  capitalist's  way.  There  is  no  hope 
for  the  people's  case,  unfortunately  I " 

"  It  is  not  that  I  cannot  stop  for  any  reasonable 
reason,  I  mean  I  cannot  control  my  stopping.  It 
is  just  this  persistent  running  ahead  of  schedule 
that  bothers  me  and  tires  me.  I  cannot  stay  on 
time  anywhere." 

"  Stop  the  clock  a  while  then," 

"You  mean?" 

"  Amuse  yourself." 

"  Go  back  to  Europe,  I  suppose.  Mrs.  Payne 
will  appreciate  that  advice,  poor  child!  She  will 
enjoy  a  holiday  too,  I  guess,  after  six  months  of 
the  country." 

The  doctor  scowled.  "  No,  I  do  not  mean  go 
to  Europe,  and  talk  politics  and  smoke,  and  drift 
round  vapid  watering  places  to  shop  and  bore  your 
self  reading  newspapers  a  week  old  and  letting 
your  muscles  get  flabby.  Nothing  of  the  sort !  I 
mean  real  change, —  something  to  tone  you  up  men 
tally  as  well  as  physically.  A  month  or  two  way 


A  WARNING  247 

up  in  the  wilderness  to  the  north,  where  you  have 
to  carry  your  boat,  with  only  a  native  guide  to 
talk  to,  who  won't  talk  about  anything  but  moose 
or  salmon  trout,  and  air  that  is  not  part  sewer  gas 
and  part  cafe  cooking  fanned  at  you  by  balsam 
branches  instead  of  electric  fans  that  set  your  head 
swimming." 

Raleigh  drew  in  a  long,  deep  breath.  Doctor  Wy- 
lin  approved  it  heartily. 

"  I  mean  where  there  is  stillness  unlike  that  of 
any  tense  moment  in  a  play  on  some  roof  garden," 
—  he  continued, — "  where  there  is  a  real  bird  in 
stead  of  a  chorus  of  kicking  girls,  and  real  water 
leaping  at  the  side  of  your  canoe;  a  deer  perhaps, 
bathing  at  dawn, —  long  avenues  of  pines  instead 
of  frantic  subways  with  chewing  gum  signs  to 
look  at  and  patent  food  advertisements,  or  the  eter 
nal  white  walls  of  the  tunnel  tearing  by  too  near 
for  your  eyes  to  focus  without  confusion  of  every 
nerve  of  sight.  My  dear  boy,  you  only  need  what 
is  technically  known  as  rest.  There  is  nothing 
mysterious  about  your  case,  nothing  seriously  out 
of  repair.  You  have  set  yourself  one  goal  after 
another  until  you  have  degenerated  power.  That 
is  all." 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  in  the  woods  ?  " 

"  It  does  not  matter  what  you  do.  Call  it  hunt 
ing  or  call  it  fishing, —  only  go  and  go  alone.  And 
stay  until  I  tell  you  you  can  come  back.  A  soul  is 


248  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

sick  indeed  that  fails  to  respond  to  the  healing  of 
Nature  in  all  her  savage  beauty !  " 

"And  if  I  do  not  go?" 

Doctor  Wylin  leaned  forward  and  lowered  his 
voice  to  reply, — "  Did  you  ever  hear  what  happened 
to  Maynard's  brother?  He  was  one  of  your  kind, — 
George  Maynard?  I  will  tell  you  about  it  some 
time.  He  got  going  so  he  could  not  stop,  and  the 
one  son  who  survived  him  has  a  brain  that  will 
not  go  at  all.  That  is  the  divine  balance  of  power 
for  you,  physically.  Doctors  understand  it.  The 
American  race  to-day  is  suffering  from  the  abnor 
mal  ambition  of  the  fathers  and  mothers.  Society 
and  business  together  have  done  more  for  race  sui 
cide,  and  put  more  weak  citizens  into  our  glorious 
free  republic,  than  rum,  Romanism,  and  immigra 
tion!  It  holds  true,  with  some  modifications,  in 
city  and  country  alike.  The  race  is  degenerating,  I 
tell  you.  Here,  the  mothers  live  on  strychnine, — 
go  to  any  swagger  up-town  chemist, —  they  will 
tell  you,  if  they  are  not  afraid  to, —  but  they  can 
not  tell  you  if  it  is  the  nerves  that  create  the  de 
mand,  or  the  drug  that  makes  the  nerves.  They 
keep  it  in  one-hundred-tablet-bottles  though,  all 
ready  to  hand  out,  and  you  will  find  it  in  the  beauty- 
bag  of  almost  every  lady  of  high  degree, —  and  you 
may  thank  Chance  if  you  do  not  find  anything 
worse!  The  thing  that  is  dragging  our  American 
women  down  is  not  sin, —  honest,  red-blooded,  high- 


A  WARNING  249 

handed  sin, —  but  weakness,  excess  and  hurry. 
The  selfish  dream  of  getting  the  first  and  highest 
place  everywhere,  and  they  drug  to  stimulate  or 
console.  They  are  so  exhausted  keeping  step,  that 
they  have  nothing  to  give  their  children  but  weak 
nerves  and  failing  will  power.  Bone  and  muscle 
is  all  out  of  their  race,  generations  behind!  Ex 
citement  is  the  thing.  Go  to  the  play  to  excite 
your  nerves  by  risque  situations,  tease  your  emo 
tions  with  decadent  French  music,  sleep  with  se 
datives  instead  of  prayers  for  a  pillow!  It  is  not 
abusive  dressing,  or  late  hours,  it  is  excitement 
that  kills,  and  you  men  go  even  a  wilder  pace  for 
your  stakes  are  higher.  What  is  theatre  to  the 
women  is  dead  reality  to  you.  The  consequences 
mean  ruin,  not  a  few  idle  tears  because  the  actor 
blew  his  charming  brains  out,  as  the  only  exit  from 
disgrace." 

Raleigh  laid  a  detaining  hand  on  Doctor  Wylin's 
arm.  "  I  am  really  not  sufficiently  knocked  out  to 
be  held  responsible  for  all  this  " — he  objected. 

"  You  do  not  realise  it.  None  of  you  do,  and 
the  brawn  and  passion  of  the  Italian  and  the  Pole 
and  the  Irish  and  the  German  and  Swede  will  out 
wit  your  brains,  talent,  culture  and  all,  if  you  do  not 
some  of  you  come  to  your  senses  pretty  soon  and 
right  about  face.  What  good  does  it  do  if  you 
monopolise  the  whole  market,  and  they  corner 
health  and  unimpaired  power  to  endure  against 


250  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

you?  I  am  sick  of  all  the  talk  about  survival  of 
the  fittest.  What  if  there  is  nothing  left  of  you  to 
survive?  If  a  man  is  not  immortal  while  he  is 
mortal,  how  is  he  ever  to  hope  to  begin  to  be  ?  " 

"  You  would  make  power  the  ideal  of  character, 
then,  and  rule  out  genius,  since  weakness  is  the 
inevitable  shadow  of  great  strength  ? "  Raleigh 
asked. 

"  I  would  make  America  a  force  great  enough  to 
create  and  hold  her  own.  Cannot  your  generation 
begin  it  ?  Where  is  there  an  American  opera  or  an 
American  novel,  or  play  that  is  not  filled  up  with 
Indians,  Niggers  or  Mexican  cowboys?  Is  it 
not  possible  for  some  of  you  men  of  talent  as  well 
as  force  to  lift  us  out  of  that?  Do  you  sleep?" 
abruptly  — 

"  I  do  not  lie  awake  for  fatigue  or  worry.  I 
sometimes  get  busy  over  future  events." 

"  Ah,  yes,  a  man  may  deliberately  disobey  law 
and  get  on  very  well  for  a  time,  but  a  man  who  is 
ignorant  of  law  is  in  trouble  right  away !  There  is 
a  nice  distinction  there." 

Raleigh  thought  a  little  before  he  spoke  next. 
"  I  should  hate  to  cripple  the  concerns  depending 
on  me  by  going  off  just  now  — "  he  said  gravely. 

"  Listen  to  me  " —  Doctor  Wylin  warned.  "  Civ 
ilisation  depends  on  a  man's  safety  in  defending  the 
other.  Each  man  has  to  depend  on  another.  No 
man  can  insure  his  whole  universe.  Neither  you, 


A  WARNING  251 

nor  any  other  man  can  supply  a  safe  cog  in  a  sys 
tem,  if  your  will  is  out  of  gear.  It  is  as  bad  as 
depending  on  a  man  who  is  morally  unsound. 
Soon  your  mental  apparatus  will  be  untrustworthy. 
They  can  trust  you  not  to  steal  or  cheat,  but  you 
cannot  trust  a  sleepless  brain  or  an  imagination  that 
plays  leap-frog.  You  see  I  do  not  waste  profes 
sional  phraseology  on  you.  I  have  told  you  what 
you  asked  me  to  come  here  and  tell  you.  That  is 
all.  And  now  I  must  go." 

"  I  am  immensely  appreciative  of  your  warning," 
Raleigh  said,  rising.  Plainly,  then,  that  was  all  it 
was  to  amount  to. 

Doctor  Wylin  looked  at  his  watch  impatiently  to 
hide  his  annoyance.' 

"  I  have  not  another  minute  to  waste,"  he  said, 
also  rising.  "  Will  you  take  a  little  run  with  me 
this  afternoon?  I  admit  my  car  is  a  hundred- 
horse-power,  and  speed  not  the  best  thing  for  you, 
but  I  often  have  to  hurry." 

Raleigh  hesitated  a  moment,  then  as  if  the  invi 
tation  of  the  King  was  a  command,  accepted 
heartily. 

They  ran  out  beyond  the  Park,  up  the  Riverside 
drive  extension  and  plunged  into  the  labyrinths  of 
suburban  road  paving,  high  tension  electric  poles, 
high  pressure  derricks,  electric  trams,  screeching 
trains, —  out  past  Yonkers  into  White  Plains.  A 
little  beyond,  in  a  commanding  position  overlook- 


252  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

ing  the  river  a  stone  villa  rose  directly  before  them ; 
its  awnings  and  masses  of  pink  geraniums  bright 
as  Paris  on  the  summer  afternoon.  A  wall,  with 
a  gate  on  the  highway,  ran  a  long  distance,  denot 
ing  the  extent  of  the  property.  At  this  gate  the 
car  stopped  without  an  order.  The  doctor  stepped 
out,  and  drew  a  key  from  his  pocket. 

"  Come  up  with  me,"  he  said,  fitting  the  key  to 
the  lock  in  the  iron  grilling  as  he  spoke. 

Within  a  short  distance  of  the  house  Doctor  Wy- 
lin  stopped  and  Raleigh  did  the  same. 

"  Look ! "  he  said,  pointing  to  the  long  pergola 
that  stretched  the  entire  side  of  the  house  toward 
the  west.  Through  the  shade  between  the  vines  the 
sun  fell  brilliantly  through  the  white  lattice  work 
upon  a  tall,  slight  figure,  walking  up  and  down  with 
a  perfectly  measured  though  inert  step.  There  was 
nothing  unusual  about  the  boy,  except  that  he 
walked  regularly,  with  studied  precision,  and  from 
time  to  time  raised  his  hand  to  his  eyes  as  if  sight 
ing  some  distant  object  with  a  glass,  although  his 
hands  were  empty. 

"  Listen,"  said  Doctor  Wylin  in  a  low  voice.  Ra 
leigh  heard  a  shrill  voice  like  that  of  a  much 
younger  lad,  giving  some  order,  presumably  to  a 
servant  unseen  by  them.  They  stood  motionless 
for  five  minutes  or  more,  during  which  the  figure 
never  swerved  in  its  steady  tramp  up  and  down, 
with  a  precise  turn  at  the  end  of  each  trip  the 


A  WARNING  253 

length  of  the  vine-clad  pergola,  with  its  gay  pink 
geraniums  flaunting  from  every  opening  in  the 
arches  through  which  the  sun  beamed  radiantly. 

"  Do  you  see  the  flag  floating  at  the  rear  ? " 
asked  the  doctor.  "  You  may  have  supposed  you 
were  looking  at  a  pergola,  but  that  is  a  full  rigged 
man-of-war  to  him,  and  has  been  for  ten  years  or 
more.  He  is  in  command.  He  walks  there  every 
day  of  his  life,  sighting  ships  in  the  offing  and 
giving  orders  to  his  seamen,  until  he  is  told  it  is 
seven  bells  and  dinner  is  waiting  for  him  in  the 
cabin.  In  the  rain  and  in  the  cold  it  is  the  same 
story.  He  sticks  to  his  duty  like  an  old  sea  dog. 
God  pity  him !  " 

"  Where  are  we  and  who  is  he  ?  "  Raleigh  was 
shocked  and  bewildered. 

"  This  is  '  Mon  Repos  ' —  note  the  irony  of  the 
name,  please,  and  that  is  George  Maynard's  son, 
sole  heir  to  the  Maynard  blood  and  millions.  The 
only  child  of  a  man  who  got  rich  and  powerful  so 
furiously  fast  that  he  passed  along  this  counterfeit 
of  himself  on  a  world  where  you  can  fool  Nature 
some  of  the  time,  but  not  all  the  time  or  forever! 
Not  even  so  clever  a  man  as  he.  I  will  leave  you 
here  a  few  minutes.  I  am  here  professionally  of 
course.  They  pay  me  a  salary  to  look  at  him  once 
a  week  when  they  are  away;  just  as  people  pay 
the  undertaker  to  put  fresh  flowers  on  their  fam 
ily  graves.  People  like  their  sad  things  done  for 


254  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

them,  you  see,  and  I  never  fail  the  Admiral,  here. 
We  are  great  cronies.  You  will  see  me  welcomed 
on  board  with  command  for  a  salute  and  all  hon 
ours." 

There  was  little  or  no  talk  between  them  on  the 
trip  back.  When  Raleigh  got  out  of  the  car,  he 
said,  "  And  you  were  in  earnest  about  my  going 
alone?" 

"  Positively." 

"  For  how  long?" 

"  Until  you  do  not  want  to  come  back." 

"You  exaggerate  awfully,  you  know,  Doctor!" 

"  That  is  my  business.  I  have  saved  a  few  of 
you.  Your  sort  of  suicide  is  unfortunately  legal." 

"  Sometimes  justifiable  and  inevitable." 

"No,  never!  Utterly  unjustifiable  and  wickedly 
perverse ! " 

Raleigh  did  not  believe  it,  of  course.  He  had  al 
ready  made  up  his  mind  to  compromise  on  Europe. 
He  would  carry  Stephanie  off  in  a  whirlwind,  be 
fore  she  had  a  chance  to  interpose  her  whims,  and 
abandon  himself  to  the  joy  of  living,  as  other  men 
did.  Wylin  was  an  old  crank.  He  had  ordered 
men  about  until  he  was  a  faddist,  a  sheer  faddist. 

"  Too  bad  about  Remsen !  "  said  a  voice  at  his 
elbow. 

"  What  about  him  ?  "  Raleigh  asked  sharply. 

"  Picked  up  off  the  floor  here,  ten  minutes  ago, 
senseless.  Over-work,  they  say.  He  got  his  warn- 


A  WARNING  255 

ing  a  year 'ago  from  old  Wylin  and  snapped  his 
fingers  at  it." 

"  Get  me  a  whiskey  and  soda,"  Raleigh  ordered 
the  nearest  waiter,  "  and  send  a  porter  up  to  my 
rooms.  Tell  him  to  have  a  taxi  ready  immedi 
ately." 

He  was  not  frightened,  of  course  Remsen  had 
been  taking  high  chances  and  walking  a  tight  rope 
physically  at  the  same  time.  It  did  not  affect  him, 
one  way  or  the  other,  but  he  was  not  so  cock-sure 
of  himself,  or  flippant  in  his  estimate  of  old  Wylin 
any  more.  He  did  not  care  for  the  way  he  re 
membered  that  son  of  George  Maynard's,  framed 
in  pink  geraniums, —  either.  He  was  going  home 
to  Sky  High  and  Stephanie  and  Grandee  to  talk 
things  over  a  bit  and  get  all  this  morbid  trend  of 
thought  out  of  his  head. 


258  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

as  her  shrill  soprano  carried  even  above  the  steady 
throb  of  the  motor,  and  into  the  honk  of  the  horn. 
It  all  impressed  him  as  having  happened  a  hundred 
years  ago. 

What  possessed  a  man  like  Steven  Randall  to 
dry  dock  here, —  even  if  he  had  been  born  here? 
Even  if  his  great-grandfather  had  been  provincial 
enough  to  have  happened  to  have  been  born  in  the 
very  room  around  which  Sky  High  had  been  so 
laboriously  constructed?  It  would  be  no  shame  to 
Stephanie  if  she  challenged  him  to  a  duel,  or  took 
the  woman's  underhand  way  of  stabbing  in  the 
dark,  by  divorcing  him,  for  leaving  her  in  such  a 
spot,  if  this  was  a  typical  Sunday  morning  aspect. 
Why,  it  was  ghastly!  One  could  hear  one's  own 
heart  beat.  Why  had  not  the  dear  child  run  away, 
or  stolen  her  liberty  in  any  fashion,  long  before 
this?  He  had  never  realised  how  such  awful  still 
ness  could  get  on  one's  nerves  before. 

The  bells  beginning  to  ring  might  have  made  it 
better  or  worse, —  he  could  not  be  sure  which.  No 
one  met  him  at  the  door,  which  he  noted  as  un 
usual  without  further  inward  comment  at  the  time, 
considering  the  hour.  They  must  have  been  ex 
pecting  him,  though  he  had  only  telephoned  from 
a  near  station,  for  the  motor  had  been  in  waiting. 
Randall  of  course  would  have  been  served  hiiis 
breakfast  upstairs,  and  by  this  time  be  in  the  midst 
of  his  protracted  dressing,  completed  between  news- 


ABSOLUTION  259 

papers  and  tonics.  He  went  directly  to  his  own 
room  and  crossing  it  knocked  on  Stephanie's  door, 
connecting.  There  was  no  response.  He  knocked 
again,  listened,  hesitated  and  turned  the  handle. 
It  was  open, —  but  there  was  no  one  there.  The 
same  Indian  summer  sweetness  and  stillness  came 
in  at  the  latticed  windows  flung  wide.  The  room 
was  full  of  a  recent  presence  in  spite  of  its  utter 
vacancy. 

"  Beware  the  absent  woman ! "  the  French  say 
with  justice.  She  was  everywhere  close  to  him 
here,  because  she  was  not  at  all.  Her  foreign  man 
nerisms  met  him  at  every  glance.  He  saw  her 
smiling  before  the  mirror,  turning  away,  stooping, 
standing  with  uplifted  hand  as  she  touched  her 
soft  hair, —  yawning  her  little  languorous  yawn  of 
content  and  provocation;  mocking  him,  absent  but 
prevailing. 

There  is  no  sting  so  keen  as  a  remembered  sweet 
ness  of  love's  hours  passed.  The  only  thorn  that 
scratched  him  now  was  the  rosary  hanging  over 
the  ivory  crucifix  at  the  foot  of  her  white  bed. 
And  instantly,  as  if  her  spirit  avenged  his  resent 
ment  of  her  religion,  came  a  vision  of  her  kneeling 
beneath  it, —  a  vision  to  soften  the  scoffing  soul  of 
a  satyr. 

More  than  the  actual  sight  of  Stephanie,  the 
room  she  lived  in  overpowered  him,  giving  him 
back  not  only  the  woman  his  wife,  and  their  actual 


26b  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

relation  in  which  they  stood  to-day,  but  the  little 
girl  of  Carlsbad,  the  Mistress  of  his  dreams,  the 
bride  of  his  realisation,  the  glory  of  his  "  lune  de 
miel ! "  Even  the  violet  sachet  from  an  open 
drawer  of  the  dresser  was  accessory  to  forgotten 
emotions.  The  later,  less  impassioned,  less  inti 
mate  because  more  taken  for  granted  relation, 
withdrew, —  leaving  this  ghostly  touch  of  mere 
things  their  unhindered  way  with  his  sense  and 
memory  and  desire.  If  memory  is  immortality,  as 
the  psychologists  hold,  surely  a  man  must  take  new 
reckonings  to  determine  the  exact  location  of  his 
own  probable  inferno,  his  own  probable  paradise. 
Perhaps  Raleigh  Payne  would  have  concluded  both 
to  occupy  the  same  given  place,  at  that  given  Sun 
day  morning.  He  felt  the  focus  narrowed  to  its 
point,  gave  himself  up  to  its  impression, —  then 
recognising  himself  as  an  intruder,  he  hastily  went 
back,  downstairs  in  search  of  her  whom  he  had 
found,  as  he  had  hardly  hoped  ever  to  find  again 
so  fully,  in  essence  and  unreality. 

But  the  house  shared  the  aspect  of  desertion  with 
the  world  outside.  A  maid  returned  his  good- 
morning  greeting  with  a  brief  acknowledgment  and 
hurried  away.  Joel  Underwood  never  came  at  all 
on  Sundays,  being  a  deacon  engaged  in  the  active 
employ  of  the  rigours  of  his  biased  Baptist  piety. 
As  he  had  breakfasted  on  the  train,  there  was  no 
occasion  for  service  of  any  sort  being  offered  him, 


ABSOLUTION  261 

and  yet  the  lack  of  welcome  depressed  him.  He 
would  not  hurry  his  uncle.  He  knew  the  force  of 
leisurely  habit  though  it  had  never  been  his  own. 
The  church  bells  were  just  beginning  to  harangue 
the  valley.  He  strolled  out  upon  the  terrace  and 
stood  overlooking  the  distant  scene,  and  indiffer 
ently  scanning  the  road  under  the  wall,  where 
decorous  church  folk  began  to  plod  their  dusty 
way  toward  their  sacred  duty.  It  was  the  usual 
country  procession, —  a  superannuated  buggy  or 
two,  a  wagon  load  of  children,  a  smart  cart  well 
driven  from  the  wrong  direction  with  occupants 
too  be-feathered  to  be  other  than  papistical  serv 
ants  from  some  neighbouring  villa, —  then  a  fam 
ily  on  foot,  a  pony-cart  and  again  the  recurrent 
buggy  with  a  faded  couple  who  resembled  the  da 
guerreotypes  of  long  ago.  Suddenly,  he  saw  the 
silver  mountings  of  Steven  Randall's  blood  bays 
emerge  from  the  woods.  They  came  on  steadily  at 
a  sharp  trot  regardless  of  the  stiff  climb  on  the 
road.  Some  one  was  evidently  in  a  hurry.  It  re 
vived  him  to  think  so!  At  the  garden  gate  in  the 
wall  below,  they  stopped  and  Stephanie  got  hastily 
out,  followed  by  a  tall  man  garbed  in  clerical  black. 
She  stood  for  a  few  moments  looking  up  at  him, 
her  back  turned  toward  the  house.  From  his 
shaven  face,  and  his  unmoved,  imperious  manner 
of  making  his  adieus,  Raleigh  read  him  at  once  for 
what  he  was,  a  Catholic  priest.  Immediately  he 


260  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

relation  in  which  they  stood  to-day,  but  the  little 
girl  of  Carlsbad,  the  Mistress  of  his  dreams,  the 
bride  of  his  realisation,  the  glory  of  his  "  lune  de 
miel ! "  Even  the  violet  sachet  from  an  open 
drawer  of  the  dresser  was  accessory  to  forgotten 
emotions.  The  later,  less  impassioned,  less  inti 
mate  because  more  taken  for  granted  relation, 
withdrew, —  leaving  this  ghostly  touch  of  mere 
things  their  unhindered  way  with  his  sense  and 
memory  and  desire.  If  memory  is  immortality,  as 
the  psychologists  hold,  surely  a  man  must  take  new 
reckonings  to  determine  the  exact  location  of  his 
own  probable  inferno,  his  own  probable  paradise. 
Perhaps  Raleigh  Payne  would  have  concluded  both 
to  occupy  the  same  given  place,  at  that  given  Sun 
day  morning.  He  felt  the  focus  narrowed  to  its 
point,  gave  himself  up  to  its  impression, —  then 
recognising  himself  as  an  intruder,  he  hastily  went 
back,  downstairs  in  search  of  her  whom  he  had 
found,  as  he  had  hardly  hoped  ever  to  find  again 
so  fully,  in  essence  and  unreality. 

But  the  house  shared  the  aspect  of  desertion  with 
the  world  outside.  A  maid  returned  his  good- 
morning  greeting  with  a  brief  acknowledgment  and 
hurried  away.  Joel  Underwood  never  came  at  all 
on  Sundays,  being  a  deacon  engaged  in  the  active 
employ  of  the  rigours  of  his  biased  Baptist  piety. 
As  he  had  breakfasted  on  the  train,  there  was  no 
occasion  for  service  of  any  sort  being  offered  him, 


ABSOLUTION  261 

and  yet  the  lack  of  welcome  depressed  him.  He 
would  not  hurry  his  uncle.  He  knew  the  force  of 
leisurely  habit  though  it  had  never  been  his  own. 
The  church  bells  were  just  beginning  to  harangue 
the  valley.  He  strolled  out  upon  the  terrace  and 
stood  overlooking  the  distant  scene,  and  indiffer 
ently  scanning  the  road  under  the  wall,  where 
decorous  church  folk  began  to  plod  their  dusty 
way  toward  their  sacred  duty.  It  was  the  usual 
country  procession, —  a  superannuated  buggy  or 
two,  a  wagon  load  of  children,  a  smart  cart  well 
driven  from  the  wrong  direction  with  occupants 
too  be-feathered  to  be  other  than  papistical  serv 
ants  from  some  neighbouring  villa, —  then  a  fam 
ily  on  foot,  a  pony-cart  and  again  the  recurrent 
buggy  with  a  faded  couple  who  resembled  the  da 
guerreotypes  of  long  ago.  Suddenly,  he  saw  the 
silver  mountings  of  Steven  Randall's  blood  bays 
emerge  from  the  woods.  They  came  on  steadily  at 
a  sharp  trot  regardless  of  the  stiff  climb  on  the 
road.  Some  one  was  evidently  in  a  hurry.  It  re 
vived  him  to  think  so!  At  the  garden  gate  in  the 
wall  below,  they  stopped  and  Stephanie  got  hastily 
out,  followed  by  a  tall  man  garbed  in  clerical  black. 
She  stood  for  a  few  moments  looking  up  at  him, 
her  back  turned  toward  the  house.  From  his 
shaven  face,  and  his  unmoved,  imperious  manner 
of  making  his  adieus,  Raleigh  read  him  at  once  for 
what  he  was,  a  Catholic  priest.  Immediately  he 


262  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

re-entered  the  carriage,  the  coachman  swung  the 
horses  round,  and  set  off  in  the  direction  of  the 
village  from  which  he  had  shortly  come,  while 
Stephanie  came  on  alone.  From  above  the  wood 
came  the  solitary  cawing  of  a  single  circling  crow. 
It  carried  the  shadow  of  portentous  evil  and  so 
lemnities  in  its  sinister  repetition,  unguessed  by 
mere  mortals  but  revealed  by  the  birds  of  the 
air. 

At  the  sound  Stephanie  turned  and  looked  in  the 
direction  of  the  carriage,  but  it  was  already  out  of 
sight.  She  wore  a  pale  grey  costume,  shoes, 
gloves,  hat,  veil,  enclosing  her  as  some  morning 
mountain  mist,  untouched  by  Aurora  because  too 
perfect  to  need  heightening. 

"  You  look  like  a  cobweb  on  the  grass,"  Raleigh 
called  down  to  her. 

She  started  slightly  on  seeing  him,  then  gave 
him  a  shadowless  smile  of  greeting. 

"  Joel  tells  me  that  is  a  sure  sign  of  fair 
weather !  "  she  called  back,  the  serious  preoccupa 
tion  of  her  face  entirely  scattered  by  the  sight  of 
him. 

"  I  hope  so !  I  am  a  stormy  petrel  myself 
though,  since  I  am  come  to  see  the  lady  of  my  heart 
all  the  way  from  town  by  a  most  contemptible 
process,  and  she  is  not  at  home ! " 

He  was  on  his  way  down  to  her  and  they  met  at 
the  terrace  where  the  scarlet  salvias  were  a  fiery 


ABSOLUTION  263 

furnace  of  bloom, —  a  scriptural  interpretation  ap 
propriate  to  the  atmosphere  of  the  day. 

As  they  met,  spoke,  kissed,  there  was  a  something 
suppressed  imperceptibly,  between  them,  a  some 
thing  equivocal  and  witholding, — an  unseen  third 
intercepting,  always  veiled,  disguised  in  a  myriad  af 
fable  blandishments,  in  eyes  that  feign,  on  lips  that 
evade,  never  beyond  hail,  unexpressed  and  shrink 
ing  away  when  challenged, —  gone  if  faced, —  yet 
like  a  faint  scent  persistently  recurrent,  between  the 
safety  of  non-committal  nothings  exchanged,  par 
ried  by  trifling,  held  off,  yet  closer  than  each  to  the 
other. 

Nothing  broke  actually  through,  or  even  threat 
ened,  the  perfect  acting  of  Stephanie,  except  that 
he  found  it  possible  to  conceive  that  she  might  be 
acting.  But  undoubtedly  she  was,  and  so  was  he 
for  that  matter, —  that  is,  if  avoiding  an  uncertainty 
because  one  puts  off  knowing  it  is  certain,  is  act 
ing,  in  that  it  is  feigning  in  opposition  to  direct 
discourse.  Constraint  was  inevitable  between  a 
man  and  woman  whose  rights  in  each  other  were 
inviolable,  yet  whose  actual  relation  was  so  formal 
as  to  involve  the  situation  in  the  eternal  charm  of 
novelty  and  need  for  re-conquest.  There  was  ev 
erything  or  nothing  between  them,  as  they  chose. 
As  he  appreciated  her  now,  he  revelled  in  the  un- 
staled  freshness  of  their  mutual  attitude.  She  was 
his,  and  he  meant  to  reward  her  for  her  long  pa- 


264  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

tience.     He    felt    oddly    excited    at    the    prospect. 

Her  manner  conciliated,  while  it  withdrew  her 
self  from  his  speculative  analysis.  The  harmony 
between  them  was  perfectly  preserved, —  it  was  not 
spontaneous  or  involuntary.  Beneath  her  grey 
chiffon  frock,  her  silvery  greeting,  there  was  a 
throbbing  question  beating  behind  her  heart.  Her 
conversation  was  to  her,  as  the  water  lily  lying 
placid  and  sweet  on  the  surface  of  a  country  pool, 
while  her  unseen  mental  processes  reached  down 
in  involved  coils  of  stem  to  the  very  mud  of  the 
bottom.  The  figure  persisted  in  her  imagination  as 
they  progressed.  Did  Raleigh  know  yet  that  she 
knew  he  had  stolen  the  fame  of  Nicolai  Heath- 
leagh  ? 

Down  she  went  again,  secretly,  under  the  sun 
shine  of  the  actual  words  they  were  saying  to  each 
other  with  their  lips. 

Had  some  one  revealed  it  to  him  by  chance? 
Some  stranger,  some  attache,  who,  proud  to  be 
conversant  with  the  gossip  of  the  court,  might  say 
on  hearing  the  story  of  Nicolai's  death,  "  You 
knew  who  the  woman  was  ? "  And  then  her  un 
married  name  and  the  thing  was  done  —  It  would 
take  so  little!  Had  it  been  done? 

She  came  to  the  surface  for  a  moment  to  encour 
age  Raleigh  with  a  glance  of  the  old  coquetry  he 
never  could  resist,  and  a  gentle  word  or  two. 

Then  down  again,  to  wonder  if  he,  not  she,  now 


ABSOLUTION  265 

occupied  the  strategic  position  in  their  future  rela 
tions.  Or  had  he  ceased  to  repeat  that  story,  from 
some  intuition  of  danger  to  himself, —  or  from  her 
hint  of  its  becoming  a  bore  on  repetition?  If  he 
knew,  undoubtedly  he  would  put  the  worst  con 
struction  possible  on  the  situation.  He  had  said  if 
he  ever  found  that  woman  he  would  torture  her  by 
more  subtle  means  than  death.  Was  he  doing  it? 
Was  this  the  sort  of  resentment  he  had  meant,  this 
exile  of  her?  She  heard,  even  in  her  dreams,  that 
sentence :  "  No,  a  more  subtle  form  of  revenge 
than  that ! "  If  he  knew  probably  he  would  not 
care  what  became  of  her. 

He  did  not  look  as  if  he  knew.  He  was  openly 
admiring  her,  flattering  her,  coveting  her  with 
every  grace  of  speech  and  glance.  He  was  very 
handsome.  She  allowed  herself  to  return  his  bad 
inage  and  reflect  his  unclouded  mood. 

He  was  sure  to  trust  her  not  to  disgrace  herself, 
and  after, —  who  would  listen  to  any  damaging 
story  against  the  honour  of  Raleigh  Payne,  told  by 
his  foreign  wife,  an  alien,  unknown,  a  Catholic? 
Heathleagh  had  lied  of  course  and  Raleigh  had 
exaggerated.  There  was  nothing  to  be  afraid  of. 
She  would  break  through  their  restraint  and  tell 
Raleigh  the  whole  affair,  and  that  Heathleagh  had 
lied  if  he  implied  any  wrong  in  their  relation. 
But  what  if  Raleigh  did  not  suspect, —  what  use 
less  complications  she  was  preparing  for  herself. 


266  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

And  would  any  man  forgive  a  woman  for  abasing 
herself  before  him  by  such  a  revelation  as  confes 
sion  of  her  part  in  the  Heathleagh  affair  might 
drag  forth?  And  would  he  not  condemn  her  for 
delaying  all  these  weeks  that  had  intervened  since 
her  certainty  of  the  misunderstanding?  Might  she 
not  spare  him,  as  well  as  herself,  the  humiliation  of 
open  discussion  if  he  was  still  unsuspecting? 

Since  Trent  absented  himself  her  letters  to  Ra 
leigh  had  been  less  infrequent,  more  characteris 
tic.  The  born  flirt  and  the  born  poet  have  this  in 
common,  that  they  must  exercise  their  innate  func 
tion  or  cease  to  exist,  and  Stephanie  bereft  of  all 
other  excitement  turned  to  Raleigh  for  amusement 
and  dallied  with  him  on  paper,  very  charm 
ingly,  as  he  was  not  slow  to  perceive,  without  a  no 
tion  of  the  underlying  reason.  She  had  re-read 
some  of  his  early  letters  to  her  and  quite  warmed 
her  hands  at  the  flame  of  that  abandoned  forge. 
If  she  was  ready  to  forgive  his  false  step  in  appro 
priating  a  dead  man's  poetry,  surely  he  must  over 
look  her  having  been  their  inspiration.  Neither 
was  perhaps  guiltless  of  high  treason  to  love  in  its 
purest  sense,  but  did  it  not  all  resolve  itself  in  mu 
tual  compromise,  in  the  last  analysis? 

The  other  horn  of  her  dilemma  presented  itself 
to  her  dishearteningly.  What  if  he  had  simply  let 
her  follow  her  whim,  and  left  her  there  in  exile, 
unconcernedly, —  in  proof  that  she  had  ceased  to 


ABSOLUTION  267 

be  an  adjunct  to  his  life.  She  was  then  a  mere  use 
less  tool,  yet  being  his  wife  she  was  forced  to  take 
her  daily  bread  from  his  hand. 

This  grew  intolerable, —  yet  what  to  do? 

It  was  this  extreme  of  her  perplexity  that  had 
thrown  her  approach  open  to  the  priest.  Out  of 
incense  and  silence  he  had  stepped  forth  into  the 
country  daylight,  conjured  by  a  nameless  sacred 
magic  known  only  to  his  order.  As  noiseless  as 
prayer,  meek  as  no  dove  ever  knew,  wiser  than  any 
serpent  the  Nile  ever  boasted,  almost  in  answer  to 
the  unspoken  longing  of  the  inner  sanctuary  of  a 
woman's  troubled  heart  —  he  was  here.  What 
wonder  if  her  confession  so  long  disregarded  had 
passed  the  bounds  of  the  conventional  formulas, 
that  she  had  been  led  on  by  the  gentle  assurance 
and  familiar  affection  of  his  holy  authority  to  open 
her  soul  to  him  as  a  girl  might  speak  with  her 
mother?  Whether  he  had  been  sent  to  search  her 
out  at  the  instigation  of  her  own  Confessor,  Father 
Damare,  bound  to  her  old  life  in  Vienna,  and  just 
now  she  understood  in  America, —  or  whether 
actuated  by  inspiration  of  Sister  Angela  in  the  con 
vent  of  the  Holy  Mother  Mary,  Father  Mayhew  was 
to  her  the  incarnate  priesthood,  bringing  sympathy, 
peace  and  enlightenment.  On  him  she  could  lay  off 
her  self-weariness,  her  fear  of  the  future,  stretch 
ing  so  long  and  un-promising  before  her.  Her 
long  days  of  loneliness  and  nights  of  wakeful  ap- 


268  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

prehension  could  let  their  weight  of  shadow  fall 
upon  his  shoulders  accustomed  to  bear  the  burdens 
of  others,  acquainted  with  other's  grief  as  the  di 
vine  shepherd  of  all  sheep,  the  weak  and  the  strong, 
the  safe-folded  and  the  wandering  alike, —  and 
knowing  how  to  support  it  since  it  was  the  way  of 
the  cross,  the  only  inevitable  way  to  all  believers. 

He  could  soothe  her  from  restless  indecision,  ex 
hort  to  renunciation,  blur  the  worldly  issues,  teach 
her  immolation  of  self  by  disdain  of  all  pleasures 
of  the  sense.  If  she  was  weak,  he  was  strong. 
If  she,  through  disuse  of  the  comforts  of  the  holy 
ordinance,  had  lost  her  way, —  accustomed  as  she 
had  always  been  to  a  clear  and  visible  copy  of  the 
Light  of  the  World  to  guide  her  footsteps,  he  was 
quick  to  hear  his  straying  sheep  and  herd  them  back 
to  the  infallible  fold. 

Raleigh  read  in  her  fashion  of  greeting  him,  that 
she  was  not  sure  just  how  he  might  be  expected  to 
take  this  relapse  in  Catholicism.  But  there  was 
that  in  her  quiet  assurance,  her  taking  everything 
so  for  granted,  that  disarmed  him.  As  if  his  crit 
icism  or  even  his  surprise  would,  after  all,  be  the 
only  unusual  thing  there  could  be  in  connection 
with  the  occurrence.  Virtue,  Stephanie  assumed, 
ought  to  be  recognised  with  self -congratulation  by 
one's  husband,  even  if  he  personally  abstained  from 
the  forms  it  took  to  express  or  confirm  itself.  Of 
course  she  was  a  Catholic.  It  finished  itself  for 


'ABSOLUTION  269 

her  there,  naturally.  What  was  there  remaining 
"  en  plus "  to  be  said  about  it  ?  And  being  a 
Catholic,  she  must  confess  and  commune  or  go  to 
perdition,  justly.  Which,  equally  of  course,  was 
not  to  be  thought  of  as  possible  or  believable. 

And  among  these  inter-wound  stems  of  the  pond 
lilies  of  their  conversation  she  was  sinking  her 
thoughts  and  recollections,  as  they  exchanged 
pretty  phrases  and  admiring  glances,  on  their  way 
up  the  terraced  gardens  that  Sabbath  morning  in 
October.  He  noted  the  keenness  of  the  swift  flash 
light  glance  with  which  she  sought  to  probe  him, 
when  she  thought  herself  unobserved.  It  pene 
trated  him,  leaving  a  sudden  sense  of  increased  re 
spect  for  her  individuality;  convinced  him  forever 
of  her  power  to  hold  herself  in  reserve  if  she  chose, 
independently  of  what  he  was  to  her,  or  what  he 
might  wish  her  to  be,  or  what  he  might  wish  to 
know  of  her  that  she  might  prefer  to  withhold. 

She  impressed  him,  in  her  flagrant  disobedience 
to  his  restrictions,  as  more  of  an  equal  than  he  had 
ever  considered  her.  His  infatuation  had  blinded 
him  at  first  to  her  mental  capacity.  Up  here  in  the 
solitude  her  metal  had  been  tried  in  a  new  crucible. 
She  had  come  out  a  long  way  beyond  herself  of 
the  yesterdays.  Man-like,  he  was  stimulated  and 
covetous  of  something  in  her  that  he  failed  to 
fathom.  The  inexplicable  suddenly  became  the  su 
perlatively  desirable.  It  is,  after  all,  what  a  woman 


270  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

can  make  a  man  believe  she  has  and  will  not  share 
with  him,  that  he  never  ceases  hankering  after. 

In  the  ears  of  Stephanie  lingered  undispelled  the 
blessed  "  Ego  Te  Absolvo "  of  the  priest.  "  If 
Father  Mayhew  gives  absolution  who  shall  judge 
me,  who  shall  refuse  it  to  me?"  her  own  heart 
chanted  on. 

And  so  they  turned  from  the  beds  of  gorgeous, 
outrageous,  flaunting  reds  and  yellows  of  the  au 
tumn's  height,  and  ascended  together  to  the  levels 
of  paler  sweetness, —  mignonette  and  heliotrope  as 
yet  unblackened  by  the  frost. 

"  My  conscience,  how  still  the  stillness  is !  "  Ra 
leigh  sighed. 

"  It  is  strange,  how  it  has  of  the  fascination  for 
me  now,  here  " —  Stephanie  said  reflectively.  "  It 
is  heavy  with  significance  to  me, —  and  for  you,  a 
poet,  it  must  be,  ah,  what  must  it  not  be  ?  "  She 
lifted  her  dark  eyes  to  his,  waiting  for  response, 
but  he  did  not  answer  her  thrilling  pause  in  word 
or  gaze, — "  and  to  you, —  it  must  be  a  poem  un 
written,  already,"  she  concluded,  finishing  her 
thought  for  herself. 

Raleigh  drew  her  hand  to  his  lips, — "  If  you 
knew  how  I  have  waited  to  hear  you  call  me  that 
one  word !  "  he  told  her,  and  there  was  real  feeling 
in  his  chastened  speech,  by  which  she  caught  not 
only  at  his  disappointment  in  her  lack  of  poetic  en 
thusiasm,  but  the  certainty  that  he  was  ignorant 
of  her  reason. 


CHAPTER  XV 

A  PURITAN   SABBATH 

BUT  for  Raleigh  all  that  first  vivid  sense  of 
her,  found  in  her  empty  room,  had  van 
ished.  The  shadow  of  the  departed  priest 
lay  between  them.  The  length  of  the  day  with  its 
dearth  of  anything  to  do  appalled  him.  He  got 
through  the  morning  hours  until  luncheon  by  go 
ing  over  the  doctor's  orders  and  his  own  interpre 
tation  of  them  to  Grandee  and  Stephanie.  He  was 
presenting  his  scheme  for  a  trip  abroad  for  sheer 
pleasure,  when  Doctor  Wylin  inserted  his  portentous 
personality  by  means  of  the  long  distance  tele 
phone,  and  made  a  few  pertinently  impertinent  re 
marks  that  left  Raleigh  rather  hollow-eyed.  He 
returned  to  the  terrace  prepared  to  throw  over 
everything  and  set  off  alone  for  his  wilderness. 
Plainly  both  Grandee  and  Stephanie  were  inclined 
to  treat  his  furious  pursuit  of  health  in  the  North 
Woods  as  extreme, —  like  all  his  other  pursuit  of 
any  end  he  set  after.  But  he  did  not  care  to  re 
peat  Wylin's  hint  as  to  his  own  unfitness  for  the 
honeymoon  he  was  projecting,  or  to  paint  for  them 
the  all  too-convincing  picture  of  George  Maynard's 

271 


272  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

only  son, —  the  Admiral  of  the  vine  trellised  per 
gola  of  "  Mon  Repos." 

Having  got  over  the  announcement,  what  else 
was  there  to  do?  Luncheon  eaten,  there  would  be 
all  the  afternoon  before  them  without  any  engage 
ment  of  importance  to  fill  it,  even  if  he  took  the 
evening  train,  as  he  had  announced  that  he  must. 
Stephanie  was  either  dazed  by  the  unexpected 
ness  of  all  he  had  come  to  tell  her  or  regretful  for 
another  long  season  of  retirement.  She  did  noth 
ing  to  fascinate  him  and  he  was  too  restless  to 
absorb  himself  in  her.  Women  are  for  the  leisure 
and  use  of  men,  but  not  available  in  hours  of  nerv 
ous  energy  and  indomitable  effort.  Raleigh  would 
have  liked  to  climb  a  mountain,  the  steeper  the  bet 
ter.  How  was  he  to  sit  still  on  a  shaded  terrace 
and  play  the  bereft  cavalier  till  sunset? 

"  Why  not  begin  your  cure  by  taking  a  nap  ?  " 
suggested  Randall,  weary  of  his  nephew's  wearing 
vitality  in  leash. 

"  Sleep !  "  Raleigh  derided. 

"  How  horribly  active  you  are !  Can't  you  enjoy 
the  rest  up  here,  even  for  a  day?  If  not,  how  are 
you  going  to  get  on  in  the  woods  ?  " 

"An  active  man  dreads  to  get  inert  and  lethar- 
gic-" 

"  There  is  a  mental  and  moral  inertia  as  well, 
don't  forget—" 

"  That  is  just  what  Doctor  Wylin  does  not  al- 


A  PURITAN  SABBATH  273 

low  for  in  this  primeval  programme  of  his  for  me. 
If  I  have  nothing  to  use  my  mind  on  up  there, 
what  is  to  prevent  its  grinding  on  itself  awhile  and 
then  stopping  altogether  ?  " 

"  A  soul  is  sick  that  refuses  its  response  to 
beauty,  just  as  much  as  to  high  and  noble  aims, — 
according  to  Wylin,"  said  Grandee  decidedly.  "  I 
think  myself  a  soul  is  groping  in  its  own  decadence 
that  is  not  aroused  by  a  summer  dawn." 

"  Perhaps  mine  is  a  malady  of  soul  instead  of 
flesh,"  suggested  Raleigh. 

"  You  are  not  accustomed  to  the  inactive  life  we 
lead,"  inserted  Stephanie.  "  It  is  worse  for  you, 
for  that  reason,  Raleigh.  It  must  be  strange  to  sit 
so  long  without  other  amusement  than  your  own 
unrest." 

"Well,  why  not  drive?"  proposed  Grandee. 
Stephanie   half   closed  her  eyes  to   imply  their 
mutual  indifference  to  this  form  of  entertainment. 
"  How  are  the  golf  links  now  ?  "  Raleigh  asked, 
brightening  at  the  idea. 

"  Never  played  over  on  Sunday,"  Grandee  re 
plied. 

"  We  might  take  a  run  over  to  Westerly  in  the 
motor,  and  meet  my  train  there.  We  could  dine 
there  at  the  Inn,  and  you  would  not  mind  coming 
back  alone,  would  you,  darling?"  he  asked,  turn 
ing  to  Stephanie.  But  Grandee  interposed  again. 
He  had  ranged  himself  on  her  side,  ignorant  of 


274  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

what  was  amiss,  but  aware  of  something  gone 
wrong  between  them,  in  spite  of  their  scrupulous 
consideration  for  each  other  carried  to  the  point 
of  artificiality. 

"  That  is  a  stupid  programme  for  Stephanie ;  to 
return  alone,  shaking  round  in  the  tonneau  for 
twenty  miles  of  darkness  on  a  hooded  road  without 
a  moon ! " 

He  was  openly  protecting  her  now.  Raleigh's 
physical  condition  did  not  warrant  him  in  forget 
ting  every  consideration  due  everyone  else!  Nor 
did  it  begin  to  appall  him  as  much  as  the  forebod 
ing  for  this  dear  woman  left  in  his  care  for  an 
indefinite  period  again,  without  occupation,  or  soci 
ety,  church  or  passion.  The  visit  of  the  priest  had 
startled  him,  man  of  the  world  as  he  was.  It  had 
set  servants'  tongues  wagging,  and  Joel's  squint 
had  gathered  bitterness  that  hinted  of  scorn.  And 
here  was  Raleigh  upsetting  his  peace  like  a  shaggy 
dog  in  a  calm  pond.  What  would  the  fellow  do 
if  there  was  no  Uncle  Randall  conveniently  at 
hand  to  shelter  his  wife's  good  name?  And  how 
unnecessarily  pretty  the  wife  was, — and  what  the 
deuce  was  she  up  to  with  her  confessor  and  her 
noncommittal  manner?  He  hated  to  be  mystified. 
And  he  did  not  understand  what  any  of  them  were 
exactly  in  for.  He  was  vexed  with  Stephanie  now 
for  saying  gently  again,  "  It  is  as  Raleigh  pleases, 
Grandee.  For  me  it  is  the  same  thing." 


A  PURITAN  SABBATH  275 

"  But  not  for  my  chauffeur !  "  exclaimed  Ran 
dall.  "  He  is  entitled  to  his  afternoon  off  on  Sun 
days." 

"  Oh,  if  that  is  all  the  objection,  I  will  make  him 
want  to  go  fast  enough !  "  cried  Raleigh.  "  I  will 
run  down  to  his  house  now  and  fix  it  up  with 
him." 

He  was  off  at  once,  thankful  to  be  in  motion, 
to  be  doing  something,  to  be  going  anywhere !  He 
found  the  man  willing  enough, —  tired  of  his  own 
domesticity  perhaps  and  was  turning  away  when 
Jim  Trent  hailed  him.  He  got  into  his  cart  and 
went  home  with  him  to  say  good-bye,  and  how  do 
you  do  to  Christine. 

She  came  to  meet  them  quite  triumphantly  the 
happy  American  matron :  her  golden  hair  burnished 
by  the  sun,  her  simple  blue  cotton  frock  unable  to 
lessen  her  glowing  beauty,  carrying  with  it  an 
impression  of  abundant  vitality. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come  back  to  the  soil !  " 
she  said  gaily.  "  Look  at  Jim, —  is  he  not  the  pic 
ture  of  country  content?  Did  you  ever  see  him 
looking  better?  He  has  had  only  a  week  up  here 
and  he  has  got  a  week  more, —  if  nothing  happens 
to  call  him  back."  Then  when  Jim  had  driven  the 
trap  round  to  the  stable  and  got  lost  in  talk  with 
his  farmer,  she  asked  quickly  —  "  What  is  it, 
Raleigh?  You  are  out  of  spirits." 

"  Nothing  much.     I  have  hurried  too  fast  down 


276  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

a  blind  alley  and  got  my  eyes  open  at  the  end. 
The  sight  of  you  and  Jim  sticks  the  knife  in  and 
turns  it  round,  that  is  all." 

"  Nervous  break  down,  I  suppose."  She  took  it 
for  granted.  Everybody  she  knew  broke  down 
sooner  or  later. 

"  Not  yet, —  but  on  the  almanac  as  liable  if  I 
do  not  run  from  it." 

"  Try  a  rest  cure.  That  puts  ever  so  many  peo 
ple  in  the  saddle  again.  Toast,  and  no  news  from 
home  or  the  outside  world  until  you  can  stand  it, — 
and  then  an  egg,  and  more  of  it  all  until  you  can 
not  stand  it!  There  is  one  kind  where  you  are 
laid  in  cold  sheets,  I  forget  why, —  and  another 
up  in  the  country,  where  they  all  wear  sandals 
and  one  garment,  and  the  women  let  their  hair 
hang  down.  It  looks  like  the  mad  scene  from  Ham 
let.  I  had  a  friend  up  there  once.  But  I  suppose 
you  will  go  to  Europe."  Raleigh  shook  his  head. 

"  Not  this  time.  Doctor  Wylin  says  the  North 
Woods." 

"  Stephanie,  too,  of  course?  " 

"Stephanie  in  the  North  Woods?" 

"  A  wife  follows  the  caravan !  " 

"  What  a  woman  you  are,  Chris ! " 

"  I  am  just  what  I  was,  Raleigh, —  and  what 
Jim  has  made  me."  For  an  instant  they  both  won 
dered —  if  —  then  the  balance  tipped  to  common 
sense. 


A  PURITAN  SABBATH  277 

"  You  have  been  terribly  hard  on  yourself  and 
stunningly  successful,"  she  said,  giving  him  just 
the  admiration  he  craved. 

"  A  man  wants  to  make  his  friends  proud  of  him 
and  do  his  part  in  the  race,"  he  began  modestly. 

"  In  your  case  it  is  a  thousand  horse-power  in 
one  man  that  has  disabled  the  engine,"  she  cried, 
"  I  am  thankful  you  are  going  to  slow  down  in 
time." 

"  Life  is  a  fight,"  Raleigh  retorted.  "  If  you  do 
not  fight  involuntarily,  you  will  be  made  to,  and 
there  is  no  glory  in  that  and  just  as  much  hell." 

"  What  does   Stephanie  say  about  it  ?  " 

"  Accepts  the  situation  with  grace,  as  always." 

"  But  I  can  see  that  you  are  worried  about  her, — 
and  I  do  not  wonder, —  for  all  your  stoicism." 

"  Stoicism  is  a  beautiful  thing  for  those  who  have 
no  teeth,"  he  reminded  her. 

Her  eyes  filled  with  sudden  tears.  He  was  not 
happy.  She  was  sure  of  it. 

"  I  wish  you  were  as  happy  as  I  am,  Raleigh," 
she  said,  in  an  access  of  affectionate  sympathy. 

"  Nobody  deserves  to  be,  except  you  " —  he  told 
her,  and  lit  his  cigar,  smoking  while  she  sat  turn 
ing  his  affairs  over  in  her  mind. 

To  Christine,  coming  fresh  from  the  sophistica 
tion  of  cities,  the  joy  of  this  village  life  was  keen 
because  she  had  never  been  fretted  by  its  limita 
tions.  The  farmer's  daughter  sighs,  when  con- 


278  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

gratulated  on  the  location  of  her  home  with  its  wide 
outlook  over  mountain  and  meadow,  while  her 
mother  admits  "  it  is  sightly  enough, —  but  lone 
some." 

In  the  heart  of  the  "  centre  "  there  is  the  same 
spirit  of  unrest.  Envy  of  the  lazy,  gay  lives  of 
the  cottagers  supplants  the  daily  satisfaction  in 
small  events,  and  the  rushing  motors  leave,  too 
often,  not  only  the  enveloping  dust  but  a  bitter 
longing  for  a  life  of  rapid  progress  and  luxury. 
To  Christine,  the  closeness  of  community  interest 
here  was  a  constant  delight  and  opportunity.  Her 
home  and  her  heart  were  alike  accessible  to  the 
highway,  whereon  humanity  went  up  the  long  wind 
ing  hill  to  Sky  High,  and  down  to  the  long  level 
of  the  town.  Christine  would  have  felt  herself  de 
prived  to  live  off  the  road,  behind  a  wall  or  hidden 
from  the  cheerful  business  of  the  wayfarers.  She 
lived  a  complex,  composite  life  here,  with  her  head 
full  of  her  neighbour's  hopes  and  schemes.  It  was 
her  personal  responsibility  to  see  that  the  sun  rose 
red  when  the  sick  boy  down  at  the  mill  was  to  be 
moved  out  under  the  elms  for  a  first  step  toward 
recovery, —  and  that  the  full  moon  came  loitering 
up  over  the  hills  and  lit  the  valley  punctually  for 
the  straw-rides  of  young  people,  who  were  most  of 
them  strangers  to  her,  except  as  they  were  part  of 
the  universal  romance  of  youth  and  joy.  She  knew 
the  quick  measure  of  the  Doctor's  horse  without 


A  PURITAN  SABBATH  279 

turning  her  head,  and  was  warmed  like  wine  by 
the  swift  assurance  of  help  and  healing  on  its  way 
to  those  who  waited  in  anxiety.  The  early  carol 
of  the  milkman  shamelessly  broke  in  upon  her  morn 
ing  nap,  but  she  liked  it,  and  missed  it  if  it  failed 
her.  The  white-frocked  butcher  boy  on  his  way  to 
the  out-lying  farms  and  villas,  whistled  a  random, 
aimless  tune,  while  his  horses  dragged  slowly  up 
the  hill.  It  floated  back  to  her,  familiar  though 
defiant  of  classification, —  the  call  of  the  road  vocal 
ised,  without  beginning  or  end.  Stephanie  said  that 
to  drive  with  Christine  was  like  nothing  but  the 
progress  of  royalty  abroad,  for  every  one  knew  her 
and  she  knew  them  better  still,  not  only  by  name 
but  by  an  established  relation,  on  a  firm  footing 
of  mutual  habit  and  respect.  For  such  multiplied 
living  Raleigh  had  no  taste  and  Stephanie  still  less 
conception.  It  never  occurred  to  Christine,  when 
she  crowded  the  empty,  gable  chambers  of  her  cot 
tage  with  girls  out  of  work  or  sewing  women  out 
of  health,  as  anything  but  a  reciprocal  pleasure. 
Duty  or  a  professed  socialism  never  tarnished  her 
hospitality.  She  honestly  liked  Kitty  Bryan,  who 
was  with  her  to-day,  and  honoured  her  for  bravery 
under  conditions  which  she  knew  would  have  made 
her  quail.  Once  she  had  asked  Stephanie  if  there 
was  not  something  the  girl  could  do  for  her,  to 
keep  her  on  in  the  country  for  a  while,  and 
Stephanie  had  counter-questioned  — 


28o  THE  SIN  OF  'ANGELS 

"  What  could  she  possibly  do  for  me  ?  " 

And  Christine  saw  it  was  out  of  the  question. 
It  perfectly  expressed  the  attitude  of  both  women. 
What  could  Kitty  Bryan  do,  but  spoil  the  moods 
in  which  Stephanie  arrayed  herself, —  those  fault 
less  costumes  from  Drecoll's  hand?  It  had  been 
a  preposterous  suggestion.  Christine  accepted  it, 
and  yet  she  could  not  help  feeling  that  Kitty  might 
open  Stephanie's  eyes  wider  to  valour  than  even 
Drecoll's  creations  could  open  those  of  the  sewing 
girl  to  beauty. 

"  She  envies  you  so ! "  Christine  had  repeated  to 
Stephanie,  "  she  says,  what  a  grand  gift  it  must 
be  to  be  Mrs.  Raleigh  Payne !  " 

"  I  believe  that  the  poor  always  envy  the  rich," 
Stephanie  had  replied  absently. 

"  It  is  not  in  the  least  that,  in  her  case,"  Chris 
tine  said  warmly.  "  She  knows  Raleigh's  poems 
by  heart,  and  it  is  not  his  money  or  social  position 
or  handsome  self  she  envies  you.  It  is  just  the 
privilege  of  being  his  wife!  The  wife  of  a  poett 
And  she  is  not  alone  by  any  means  in  her  infatua 
tion.  Not  the  only  woman  who  feels  it,  I  mean." 

"  It  is  then  so  great  an  honour, —  one  that  ex 
acts  a  just  appreciation?"  Stephanie  asked  with 
her  eyes  half  closed  in  her  characteristic  manner. 
— "  Sometimes  one  can  imagine  one  would  prefer 
to  marry  a  man  less  given  to  his  public.  It  is  not 
so  unlike  marrying  with  a  statue  in  the  park,  par 


A  PURITAN  SABBATH  281 

example, —  that  all  may  admire  as  they  pass. 
Also,  is  it  not  possible  that  a  woman  may  love 
better  to  live  in  seclusion  of  some  court-yard  quite 
enclosed,  rather  than  the  public  gardens  in  gaze  of 
all  the  world?" 

"  But  of  course  a  woman  cannot  stop  to  think  of 
herself,"  Christine  persisted.  "  It  is  no  matter 
what  happens  to  us,  if  the  man  we  love  is  safe 
and  successful.  But  it  is  dreadful  for  Raleigh  to 
work  as  he  does,  without  any  rest.  He  will  break 
down  and  then — "  Stephanie  smiled  sceptically. 

"  And  then,"  she  said,  finishing  the  sentence,  "  he 
will  rush  away  and  rest  like  the  mad,  and  return 
with  more  force  for  work  than  ever  before!  It 
is  strange  why  American  men  marry — "  she  ven 
tured,  speaking  as  if  to  herself.  "They  work 
alone,  they  play  alone,  they  rest  alone.  Why?  Is 
it  perhaps  your  fault?  And  the  American  women 
live  so  much  alone.  It  is  a  new  idea  of  your  new 
world.  We  have  not  got  it,  in  the  same  way,  in 
Europe  at  all." 

Christine  was  remembering  her  conversation 
word  for  word  as  she  resumed  her  chat  with  Ra 
leigh  now,  or  listened  to  his  plans  for  his  imme 
diate  recovery. 

"  I  never  saw  Uncle  Steven  so  nervous  and  al 
most  irritable,"  he  was  saying. 

"  And  Stephanie  shows  nothing,  you  say  ?  He 
may  be  anxious  about  her." 


282  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

"  She  accepts  the  programme  without  surprise 
or  apparent  regret." 

"  She  has  realised  the  part  a  woman  ought  to 
play  in  her  husband's  life.  I  always  trust  to  the 
power  of  example,  and  she  has  had  time  to  learn 
our  American  ideals  and  appropriate  them." 

"  It  is  not  so  much  that,  as  finding  that  protest 
did  no  good  in  the  past,  I  imagine.  I  am  sur 
prised  myself  to  see  how  calmly  she  has  taken  this 
last  disappointment.  We  had  planned  to  go  to  Eu 
rope  together  for  a  long  holiday,"  he  said  with 
that  drawing  together  of  his  brows  that  meant 
real  chagrin. 

"  You  surely  would  not  expect  her  to  try  and 
turn  you  from  what  is  for  your  health ! "  she  chal 
lenged. 

"  Wylin  has  the  word  of  command,  I  admit, — 
still — "  she  saw  he  was  disappointed,  that  he  had 
expected  at  least  a  more  expressive  outcry  in  Ste 
phanie's  final  acceptance  of  conditions. 

"  It  is  going  to  be  hard  enough  for  her,  though," 
Christine  sighed.  She  understood  it,  saw  it  in  all 
its  limiting  aspects.  "  I  cry  and  get  over  it,  and 
look  round  for  something  to  do.  I  never  brood 
like  a  mediaeval  dame  whose  lord  is  away  on  a 
crusade,  but  she  is  not  like  other  women  I  know." 

"  The  first  joy  of  absence  is  the  other  fellow, 
usually,"  Raleigh  agreed,  with  an  attempt  at  light 
ness,  but  nettled  by  her  implied  criticism  of  his 


A  PURITAN  SABBATH  283 

wife.  "  You  are  not  that  sort,  and  Stephanie  is 
not  that  sort  either,  or  any  other  sort  that  comes 
under  common  classification." 

Christine  frowned.  "  A  woman  gets  the  habit 
of  a  man  " —  she  said  slowly.  "  The  more  she 
sees  of  him,  the  more  she  gets  addicted  to  him,  and 
if  she  does  not  see  him — " 

"  She  gets  out  of  the  habit,  you  mean  ? "  Ra 
leigh  asked,  seeing  her  hesitation. 

"  Then,  of  course,  Stephanie  has  her  different 
religion,"  Christine  went  on.  He  did  not  follow 
up  her  lead  as  she  perhaps  hoped  he  would,  and 
she  added: 

"  Frankly,  Raleigh,  do  you  think  it  is  wise  for 
you  to  encourage  her  in  these  Catholic  demonstra 
tions, —  having  her  confessor  up  here?  It  does 
stir  up  the  village  gossip  so!  What  on  earth  can 
a  woman,  a  lady,  have  to  confess,  that  cannot  wait 
until  you  go  back  to  town  for  the  winter?  Be 
side,  you  are  a  public  man,  involved  in  a  host  of 
public  trusts,  therefore  a  target  for  all  sorts  of 
attack.  Stephanie  is  a  child  in  a  way.  She  may 
be  taken  off  her  guard,  without  dreaming  of  do 
ing  the  least  harm,  or  betraying  what  you  suppose 
inviolate.  But  I  would  not  trust  a  priest  and  a 
woman,  not  if  I  were  the  woman  myself !  I  know 
you  think  I  am  a  narrow,  bigoted  Calvinist,  but 
you  must  forgive  me  for  speaking  out,  for  you 
know  that  next  to  Jim,  there  is  no  one  whose  ca- 


284  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

reer  is  so  vital  to  me  as  your  own,  and  I  am  an 
American  like  yourself,  without  illusion  or  desire 
to  be  idolised  or  kept  in  the  dark  of  candles  and 
perpetual  incense.  I  am  out  in  the  open  with  you 
both  in  the  struggle,  and  I  see  straighter  because 
I  am  not  a  mystic  blinded  by  mysticism  or  pas 
sion.  You  ought  to  stop  Stephanie's  traffic  with 
the  Catholic  church,  unless  you  are  prepared  to 
come  up  against  it  later  in  a  way  that  will  dam 
age  you,  or  some  of  the  measures  you  have  at 
heart/' 

"  Well,  well,  what  a  politician  and  bigot  we  have 
here !  "  Raleigh  exclaimed,  making  light  of  her  ad 
monition.  "  If  Stephanie  gets  any  fun  out  of  a 
religious  flirtation  between  her  conscience  and  her 
confessor,  I  am  certainly  not  going  to  play  George 
Dandin !  There  are  few  women  capable  of  your 
insight  and  sacrifice  for  a  man's  career."  He  took 
her  hand  as  he  said  it.  Her  face  glowed. 

"  Your  position  against  the  Catholic  movement 
demands  it,  Raleigh,"  she  repeated. 

"  I  am  invulnerable,  Chris.  It  ought  not  to 
worry  you,"  he  assured  her. 

"  After  those  poems,  how  she  can  care  — "  she 
began  inarticulately. 

Raleigh  gave  her  a  strange  glance.  "  Is  it  true, 
Chris,  I  wonder,  that  a  man  does  his  work  for  one 
woman,  by  inspiration  of  another  ? "  And  she 
knew  he  meant  that  his  reward  came  from  her  ap- 


A  PURITAN  SABBATH  285 

preciation,  though  his  motive  power  was  from  Ste 
phanie.  And  yet  in  his  soul  he  was  .convinced 
that  the  passion  of  women  like  Stephanie  is  the 
love  that  makes  will  and  initiative  power  for  set 
ting  all  the  world's  work  going.  Not  many  know 
this,  only  those  so  born, —  some  poets,  some 
prophets  and  some  common  people  who  live  on 
farms. 

"  Keep  her  from  getting  too  lonely,"  was  all  he 
said  aloud.  "  She  has  none  of  your  resources  in 
the  country."  But  the  seed  was  sown,  and  Chris 
tine  knew  it  was. 

"  I  will,"  she  promised,  as  solemnly  as  if  it  had 
been  the  wedding  service,  because  it  was  for  him. 

The  run  over  to  Westerly  was  rapid  enough  to 
preclude  conversation.  The  road  was  in  good  con 
dition  and  they  had  it  to  themselves.  It  was  a 
depressing  vicinity  to  Stephanie, —  the  zinc  sol 
dier's  monument  on  the  tiny  green  of  one  silent 
hamlet  through  which  they  passed  seemed  to  her 
the  very  dreariest  object  she  had  ever  looked  upon. 
So  they  sat  silent,  envied  by  the  casual  groups 
roused  by  their  warning  horn,  and  let  the  satis 
faction  of  mere  speed  possess  them,  since  there 
seemed  to  be  no  equivalent  for  joy  otherwise  at 
hand. 

Their  dinner  at  the  inn  was  not  very  gay, 
though  they  both  made  an  effort,  which  seriously 
reflected  on  both  by  turn.  Toward  the  end  Ra- 


286  THE  SIN  OF  'ANGELS 

leigh  referred  to  his  anxiety  for  his  Uncle  Ran 
dall. 

"  I  never  saw  Grandee  so  unlike  himself,"  he 
remarked,  smoking  the  last  cigar  he  intended  to 
allow  himself  for  a  month. 

"  He  is  not  able  to  support  the  slightest  excite 
ment  or  fatigue.  I  believe  he  is  troubled  about 
you  too,  and  to  say  the  truth,  frankly,  he  is  tired 
to-day  from  talking  late  last  night,"  Stephanie 
explained  easily. 

"Talking?" 

"  Yes,  with  Father  Mayhew." 

"  Stephanie,  you  did  not  ask  Grandee  to  have 
him  stop  at  Sky  High  ?  "  His  tone  was  distinctly 
annoyed. 

"  No,  not  in  the  least.  But  if  I  had  ?  Or  if  he 
had?  Would  it  be  a  scandal?  What  is  there  so 
enormous  about  it?  Grandee  would  do  it.  He 
would  do  anything  for  me,  as  I  would  also  for 
him,  par  example !  " 

"  A  certainty  you  should  be  careful  not  to  abuse." 
She  shrugged  her  shoulders  at  the  reprimand. 

"  As  for  that,  I  am  always  in  the  wrong. 
It  is  Raleigh  Payne  only  who  is  eternally  in  the 
right !  "  she  said,  half  in  play.  But  for  the  mo 
ment  she  meant  it.  He  saw  that  she  did,  though 
she  laughed  as  if  it  was  all  nonsense. 

He  was  informed  already  from  Steven  Randall, 
that  the  priest  had  come  to  confess  her,  and  that 


A  PURITAN  SABBATH  287 

she  had  gone  fasting  to  early  Mass,  at  the  village 
eight  miles  distant  where  the  factories  made  a 
Catholic  mission  church  a  commercial  necessity. 
But  at  whose  instigation  it  had  all  come  about,  no 
one  but  Stephanie  herself  could  tell  him,  and  she 
had  volunteered  nothing;  as  if  being  out  of 
his  world  it  did  not  concern  him,  any  more 
than  his  interests  concerned  her  by  his  own  ad 
mission. 

"  Confession  implies  such  unnecessary  peni 
tence,"  he  began  again,  not  inclined  to  discuss  the 
matter  but  wanting  her  to  catch  a  sense  of  his  own 
feeling.  "  I  remember  Grandee  saying  that  it  was 
abolished  in  the  Greek  church  because  a  sixteenth 
century  woman  confessed  to  '  relations '  with  the 
patriarch.  It  always  amused  me  that  they  abol 
ished  the  institution,  rather  than  the  woman  or  the 
patriarch." 

"  But  one  is  not  allowed  to  receive  the  sacra 
ment  without  confession,  and  one  cannot  be  ab 
solved  without  doing  penance  and  one  cannot  live 
without  sin,"  Stephanie  stated  baldly. 

"  It  does  sound  like  an  endless  chain,  put  in 
that  way,"  he  admitted.  "  I  suppose  it  is  all  a  mat 
ter  of  training  and  credulity  after  all." 

Stephanie  regarded  his  attitude  as  that  of  any 
heretic.  "  Have  you  ever  heard  of  the  two  nuns 
who  died  out  of  communion?"  she  enquired. 
"  They  were  buried  beneath  the  chapel  floor  and 


288  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

whenever  the  sacrament  is  administered,  to  this 
day,  they  rise  and  leave  the  place  before  the  Ele 
vation." 

"  The  insinuation  being  that  your  charming 
ghost  might  be  barred  from  paradise,  if  you  failed 
to  whisper  in  some  holy  Father's  ear  the  exact  num 
ber  of  hearts  you  have  broken,  or  the  number  of 
thoughts  you  have  omitted  that  you  should  have 
thought  of  your  absent  husband,  or  the  buds  you 
have  picked  against  Joel's  express  commands? 
What  does  a  pretty  woman  confess?  You  must 
have  to  make  up  sins  at  Sky  High." 

"  The  Imitation  tells  us  that  grace  visits  us  in 
two  ways,  in  comfort  and  temptation.  One  is  not 
cut  off  from  grace,  even  at  Sky  High,"  she  re 
proved  him  gently.  And  with  this  he  had  to  be 
content,  for  the  harmony  between  them  being  dis 
turbed,  it  was  no  time  for  discussion  of  any  se 
rious  subject,  much  less  one  upon  which  their 
opinions  and  education  were  so  widely  divergent. 
In  short,  he  read  her  as  more  a  part  of  her  own 
life-system  than  his  life  or  development,  or  their 
mutual  existence.  She  was  schism  if  pressed,  but 
resigned  to  inactive  submission  unless  goaded  to 
reaction.  In  the  golden  books  of  the  married, 
there  is  one  supreme  aphorism, —  Avoid  the  rais 
ing  of  an  issue.  It  is  the  secret  of  peace,  the  rule 
for  appearance  well  preserved,  the  test  of  mated 
philosophy.  If  Stephanie  preferred  to  assume  that 


A  PURITAN  SABBATH  289 

grace  visited  her  in  temptation  and  consolation,  it 
did  no  great  harm  to  any  fact  or  theory  held  by 
himself.  Raleigh  Payne  conceived  it  no  sin  to 
employ  diplomacy  in  private  life;  accordingly  he 
walked  round  the  form  of  his  wife's  faith,  as  he 
had  walked  round  so  many  issues  preceding,  and 
as  he  was  also  quite  aware  she  had  circled  critical 
differences  of  taste  and  prejudice  which  were 
harmless  as  long  as  unobtrusively  disregarded,  in 
which  limbo  they  ceased  to  actually  exist  as  far  as 
effect  upon  external  events  went. 

"  Your  religion  is  your  own,"  he  magnificently 
assured  her  now.  "  Gibbon  left  out  what  it  meant 
to  a  woman,  but  one  can  imagine  it  to  play  an  im 
portant  part  in  a  passive  life.  I  only  ask  you  to 
avoid  arousing  discussion  from  the  point  of  view 
of  good  taste.  And  please  make  a  vow  to  be  so 
good  that  you  have  no  further  need  of  ghostly 
counsel  until  you  are  away  from  these  orthodox 
sects  that  look  askance  at  Rome.  It  is  important 
to  me  just  now,  please  keep  it  in  the  background 
for 'the  present  as  much  as  possible." 

"  I  am  to  understand  you  regard  religion  also 
as  a  matter  of  diplomacy  ?  " 

"  The  absence  of  its  display, —  as  a  matter  of 
expediency, —  yes,"  he  replied. 

She  made  no  comment  on  his  ultimatum.  As 
he  looked  across  the  table  at  her,  she  had  never 
piqued  his  interest  more.  That  she  held  herself 


290  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

so  aloof  from  him  bat  completed  her  attraction. 
All  out  of  drawing  with  the  setting  afforded  by 
the  country  inn  with  its  primitive  colour  and  local 
furnishing,  she  was  dining,  as  if  to  the  inspiration 
°f  gipsy  bands,  with  a  languor  and  perfection  hint 
ing  of  mannered  courts  and  gay  scenes,  of 
"plage"  and  "cercle"  beyond  these  dusk-gather 
ing  hills,  out  in  the  decadent  old  world  of  love  and 
folly! 

The  recognition  of  it  gave  him  a  swift  shiver  of 
pleasure.  Ah,  no,  he  had  not  been  mistaken.  It 
was  only  for  an  instant  that  Christine  had  shaken 
him  to-day  by  her  stupendous  understanding  of 
him  and  his  needs.  No  man  would  hesitate  be 
tween  these  two  women.  He  congratulated  him 
self  now  without  regret.  Penelope  for  the  others, 
but  wayward  Helen  for  him!  Pity  he  could  not 
give  her  just  what  she  most  wanted  and  was  sulk 
ing  for!  He  would  later.  He  knew  exactly  the 
role  to  play  with  her,  and  the  precise  spot  on  the 
Riviera  where  he  meant  to  play  it  He  gave  her 
a  long,  intense  gaze  from  those  heavy-browed  eyes 
of  his,  that  brought  the  flush  to  her  face.  If  he 
had  laid  his  hand  on  hers,  or  breathed  but  a  hint 
of  his  inmost  self  to  her  then,  of  the  spell  she  al 
ways  cast  over  him  when  she  would, —  but  the 
servant  announcing  the  car  and  holding  a  respect 
fully  hastening  coat  for  one,  and  then  the  other, 
broke  in  upon  the  moment  that  fled  with  its  eter- 


A  PURITAN  SABBATH  391 

nity  to  follow,  as  eternity  does  follow  every  mo 
ment  however  insignificant. 

It  was  but  a  short  distance  to  the  station.  The 
night  was  dark  and  the  brilliantly  lighted  coaches, 
as  the  train  rushed  in,  made  it  doubly  dreary  out 
side. 

As  the  movement  slowed  to  a  halt,  a  man  looked 
out  of  one  of  the  windows  of  the  Pullman  smoker 
directly  into  her  eyes.  Then  the  iron  gates  of 
the  vestibule  were  jerked  noisily  open,  the  officials 
stepped  down,  Raleigh,  who  had  gone  to  buy  his 
ticket,  ran  back,  kissed  her  hurriedly,  gave  her  a 
little  hug  with  that  pat  between  her  shoulders 
which  she  excessively  disliked  as  an  Americanism 
unbefitting  any  sort  of  emotion, —  and  disappeared. 

She  watched  him  on  board  with  a  strangling 
sense  of  desolation.  He  was  so  unfeignedly  giad 
to  go!  Resentment  rose  in  her  breast.  It  was 
her  only  chance  at  life  dtsanptniag  in  that  lighted 
train,  that  was  sweeping  away  to  die  world  and 
leaving  her  sitting  here  in  the  dark  alone. 

A  few  drops  of  rain  fell  on  her  face.  She  had 
twenty  miles  of  up-hill  country  road  between  her 
self  and  warmth;  the  creature  comfort  of  even 
bath  and  bed  lay  for  the  moment  out  of  her  reach. 
Somehow  the  train  epitomised  all  that  was  slip 
ping  away  from  her  grasp  day  by  day.  The 
driver  had  gone  to  make  some  inquiries  for 
Grandee,  She  gave  a  little  half  articulate  sob,  a 


292  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

sort  of  groan  that  escaped  her,  longing  to  cry  out 
not  to  be  left  behind  there  in  the  damp,  dispiriting 
drizzle, —  when  a  voice  over  her  shoulder  cried 
full  of  an  irrepressible  gladness: 

"This  is  very  joyful!  How  is  Grandee?  And 
how  are  Joel  Underwood  and  the  heliotrope?  And 
how  very  adorable  of  them  to  send  you  over  for 
me!" 

And  before  she  turned  her  head  she  knew  she 
could  not  be  mistaken  in  her  recognition, —  the 
man  she  had  seen  in  the  smoking  coach  had  been 
Lawrence  Trent. 

With  a  sudden  inexplicable  reaction  she  put  out 
her  hand.  He  clenched  it  in  his  own,  making 
no  attempt  to  say  his  pleasure  in  the  sight  of 
her. 

"  I  accompanied  Mr.  Payne,  who  is  just  leaving 
us  for  a  holiday,"  she  said  in  explanation  of  her 
presence  there  alone. 

"  And  you  will  let  me  go  back  with  you,  won't 
you?  Please  do,  for  otherwise  I  shall  have  to 
walk  and  I  hate  walking  if  I  have  to  do  it." 

Morton,  the  chauffeur,  returned.  He  took  his 
place  at  the  wheel  and  waited  for  orders. 

"How  were  you  intending  to  go  over?"  she 
asked. 

"  As  Providence  pleased !  And  I  am  very  much 
pleased  with  Providence  for  his  especial  pro 
vision." 


A  PURITAN  SABBATH  293 

"  Grandee  would  be  very  happy,  I  am  sure," 
she  said  decorously. 

"  With  your  permission,  then  ?  "  He  stood  for 
several  seconds,  as  if  to  compel  her  to  raise  her 
eyes  and  give  the  consent  for  which  he  waited  in 
every  nerve, —  then  got  in  on  the  front  seat  by 
the  driver.  It  did  not  occur  to  her,  until  long 
afterward,  that  it  was  odd  for  a  man  to  be  trav 
elling  without  luggage  of  any  sort  beyond  a  stick, 
and  when  Trent  remembered  his  overcoat  it  was 
only  for  sake  of  his  cigarette  case  in  the  pocket, 
being  a  man  of  impulse  and  action  under  sufficient 
provocation. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

TRENT 

JOEL  UNDERWOOD'S  reception  of  Trent, 
when  he  presented  himself  again  as  a  neigh 
bour,  was  even  more  significant  of  the  esteem 
in  which  he  was  held  at  Sky  High  than  Steven 
Randall's  own.  The  remarkable  thing  about  the 
boy  was  his  gift  of  winning  perfectly  contrary,  un 
accountable,  incongruous,  incompatible  liking, — 
all  the  more  amazing  because  he  obtruded  his  own 
idiosyncrasies  unblushingly,  never  making  the  least 
effort  to  suppress  them  or  conciliate  a  mutual 
footing.  Grandee  disagreed  with  him,  Stephanie 
soon  noticed,  upon  every  topic  brought  up  between 
them,  but  counted  the  day  lost  that  failed  to  bring 
the  engaging  adversary  to  his  Eyrie  door.  He 
pronounced  Trent  unsatisfactory,  but  a  genius,  and 
enjoyed  his  moods  and  pungent  prejudices  far  more 
keenly  than  Newbold's  balanced  opinions  or  the 
well-rounded  theories  of  Remmington.  Once  es 
tablished  as  an  habitue,  favoured  of  servants 
within  and  without,  he  returned  now  to  all  his  for 
mer  habits  as  a  matter  of  course;  frequenting  the 
house  at  his  own  pleasure.  Sometimes  "  led  by  the 
spirit  in  his  feet "  he  brought  his  books  and  read 

294 


TRENT  295 

down  among  the  flowers  of  the  garden  terraces, 
without  coming  up  to  inform  his  friends  of  his 
vicinity.  He  liked  this  feeling  of  absent-nearness 
and  indirect  suggestion;  it  so  delightfully  included 
him,  yet  kept  them  at  arm's  length  until  he  wanted 
them  as  actual  beings  in  an  actual  world.  He 
could  often  hear  the  piano,  as  he  lay  there  in  the 
sun.  He  fancied  it  another  of  the  pretty  foreign 
modes  of  welcome,  as  it  floated  down  the  terraces 
to  meet  him.  He  had  thrown  himself  down  beside 
the  only  mass  of  heliotrope  still  protected  from  the 
frost,  one  morning,  like  a  young  faun, —  ostensi 
bly  to  study, —  when  Joel  came  upon  him. 

"  Set  your  eyes  on  that,  will  you  ?  "  he  requested, 
indicating  a  spindling  La  France  rose  bush  he  was 
carrying  in  his  arms.  "  Stunted  for  lack  of  sun ! 
Not  a  bud  all  summer  long !  "  he  complained,  hold 
ing  it  up  in  all  its  green  enormity. 

"  But  ^ou  are  not  going  to  destroy  it  ?  "  Trent 
protested.  Joel  focused  an  imaginary  grievance 
with  his  good  eye,  before  he  replied  in  his  usual 
indirect  discourse: 

"  Bulbs  feed  on  themselves, —  they  want  the 
dark, —  so  do  a  papist  and  a  violet.  Light  kills  'em 
in  time.  But  keep  a  healthy  plant,  born  to  be  a 
free-bloomer,  in  the  shade,  and  you'll  get  a  stunted 
growth, —  something  like  a  papist  bowed  down  to 
false  idols  in  the  dark.  This  innocent  rose  is  go 
ing  to  be  re-set  in  the  sunniest  corner  of  the  green- 


296  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

house  as  quick  as  orthodox  hands  can  set  it.  I 
will  ask  you  to  look  in  at  it  by  and  by.  You  won't 
believe  it  is  the  same  plant." 

The  man  among  the  heliotropes  comprehended 
the  drift  of  Joel's  allegory  and  neglected  to  follow 
up  the  conversation.  The  only  part  of  it  that  lin 
gered  with  him  was  the  association  of  papists  and 
violets.  That  appealed  to  him.  It  sent  him  off 
on  a  fanciful  train  of  purple  imagery  —  in  which 
sacred  vestments,  stained  glass  phantasies  and  the 
wistful  lips  of  women  at  prayer  mingled  in  a  blur 
of  the  aesthetic  and  sensuous,  inextricably  confused 
with  the  odour  of  heliotrope.  For  Trent  was  a 
churchman,  beyond  all  ordinary  meaning  of  that 
term.  He  called  himself  an  Anglican  Catholic ; 
denying  the  efficacy  of  priestly  intervention  be 
tween  himself  and  the  retribution  of  his  sins,  but 
openly  keeping  his  fasts,  and  doing  his  self-im 
posed  penance  through  abstinence  from  the  grati 
fications  he  innocently  loved, —  devoutly  observing 
the  despair  of  the  passion  and  ecstasy  of  celebra 
tion.  His  was  a  reactionary  nature,  violent  in  both 
human  and  divine  appetite.  Stephanie  and  he  sym 
pathised  deeply,  rather  than  talked  of  religion  to 
gether,  and  never  argued.  He  had  confessed  that 
he  wished  himself  born  a  Romanist;  envying  them 
their  visions,  their  tortures  even,  and  all  those 
higher  degrees  of  emotional  experience  of  asceti 
cism  so  inevitably  allied  to  the  extreme  epicurean- 


TRENT  297 

ism  of  his  delicate  yet  intense  nature.  To  him, 
the  mysticism  of  Stephanie  supplied  just  the  final 
hint  of  feminine  idealism,  and  when  he  challenged 
her  for  inconsistencies,  her  unperturbed  response 
— "  The  church  does  not  concern  my  head, —  only 
my  heart,"  had  suited  him  wholly  —  for  a  woman. 
That  a  woman  should  be  religious  meant  also  that 
she  had  the  other  side, —  a  side  he  recognised  in 
himself,  the  passioning  imagination,  the  craving 
for  something  unseen  and  beyond,  remote  and  vi 
brating  with  a  straining  excess  beyond  the  visible 
life  of  day  and  night.  It  hinted  an  inward  life, 
fed  by  desires  unknown  and  unspoken.  Her  re 
cent  confession  and  confessor,  of  which  he  speed 
ily  learned  on  all  sides,  and  which  to  Christine 
boded  so  darkly,  had  nothing  of  repulsion  for  him. 
Between  the  husband  and  the  priest,  he  chose 
shrewdly,  and  chose  to  the  advantage  of  the  latter. 
The  Magdalen  is  not  repulsive  to  the  musing  of 
men, —  as  none  are  better  aware  than  the  priest  in 
orders. 

Trent  among  the  heliotropes  found  himself  re 
duced  to  terms  of  sheer  envy.  He  envied  her  the 
emotional  excitement  of  it  all.  And  what  did  he 
not  envy  Father  Mayhew?  He  returned  to  the 
probable  picture  with  a  frequency  that  interfered 
with  his  reading.  Stephanie  penitent  was  an  un 
nerving  possibility  to  present  to  any  live  man.  It 
was  one  to  hurry  a  man's  blood,  were  he  even  re- 


298  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

motely  responsible  for  so  much  as  a  dream  over 
the  line  toward  intimacy, —  even  the  mere  verging 
toward  the  forbidden  thought.  He  stared  at  him 
self  for  the  first  time  as  a  potential  temptation,  be 
fore  shutting  his  eyes  to  the  deplorable  but  se 
ductive  spectacle. 

The  secrecy  of  her  religion  fascinated  him. 
Any  secret  opens  the  door  to  unrest,  implies  dis 
comfiture  of  disclosure,  reverses  the  simplicities  of 
life,  introduces  complexity  through  the  relations 
of  the  faith  and  unfaith  of  others.  One  no  longer 
belongs  to  oneself.  Independence  is  gone.  The 
secret  necessitates  involved  casuistry,  subtlety  of 
intelligence,  discrimination,  the  art  of  appearing 
one  thing  and  knowing  the  other,  under  the  seal. 

He  always  argued  hotly  against  this,  when 
Grandee  was  defending  any  phase  of  Catholicism, 
in  his  leniency  toward  all  expression  of  aspiration. 
In  fact  Steven  Randall  had  often  repeated  at  the 
close  of  their  discussions: 

"  It  is  age  that  condones  laxity,  youth  is  all  for 
severity." 

"  Youth  sees  without  a  glass,"  was  Trent's  ex 
cuse. 

"  And  I  am  more  surprised  every  day  that 
Shakespeare  did  not  reverse  his  line  and  say  — 

"crabbed  youth  and   age  cannot  live  together!" 
since  youth  is  for  no  compromise,  and  no  mariyr- 


TRENT  299 

dom  suffices  it,"  Randall  said,  with  the  touch  of 
inevitable  resignation  to  the-world-as-it-is,  in  his 
mellow  voice. 

"  If  we  began  where  you  leave  off,  our  young 
enthusiasm  would  be  wasted.  You  see,  most  wise 
Grandee,  that  if  the  Church  calls  her  own  after 
the  earlier  faith  is  tarnished,  she  will  call  too  late 
for  our  salvation  or  her  own,"  Trent  urged  warmly. 

"  Ritualism  and  women  appeal  with  equal 
strength  to  a  boy,"  Grandee  remarked  reflectively. 
"  There  is,  after  all,  no  more  sensuous  appeal  to 
the  imagination  than  the  mere  word  chastity, —  by 
all  it  implies." 

"  What  do  you  consider  a  man's  ultimate  safe 
guard,  then?  If  you  insinuate  that  the  church 
makes  concession  to  his  lower  nature?" 

"  I  do  not  insinuate  that,  but  I  believe  in  a  man's 
will  as  his  staunchest  defence, —  under  God  Al 
mighty." 

"  What  is  the  will  good  for,  except  to  make  a 
choice?  It  cannot  keep  you  from  the  pain  your 
choice  inflicts.  It  cannot  hold  you  from  your  long 
ing,  or  from  fear,  or  any  spiritual  misery." 

"  It  makes  for  right  action." 

"  It  makes  for  self, —  and  religion  kills  self,  or 
tries  to,  in  us  all.  While  the  church  supplies  a 
life  and  love  to  inspire  devotion." 

"  And  all  boys  have  an  appetite  for  love,  sacred 
or  profane,"  was  Grandee's  conclusion. 


300  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

As  Trent's  own  proclivities  for  a  life  of  religion, 
the  taking  of  vows  and  assuming  of  orders  at 
some  later  time  intensified,  he  dwelt  increasingly  on 
the  one  step  further  that  would  carry  him  over  to 
the  faith  of  this  woman  who  was  so  thoroughly  a 
"  mondaine,"  and  at  the  same  time  so  complacently 
a  Catholic ;  one  of  the  faithful  combining  the  ex 
tremes  of  his  own  capacities  without  apparent  fric 
tion  of  soul ;  after  the  manner  of  other  incredible 
ladies  of  church  history  and  legend. 

He  was  reverent  by  nature  and  desire,  and  he 
seemed  to  himself  to  have  perceived  in  holy  orders 
a  career  that  afforded  a  sacred  clew  to  the  hallow 
ing  of  his  feeling  for  Stephanie,  which  was  no 
longer  a  quarrelsome  spectre,  against  which  he 
struggled,  but  an  accepted  secret  of  his  hidden 
heart.  It  was  no  longer  a  secret  from  him,  but 
his  secret, —  blent  with  his  religious  meditation, 
even  shadowing  the  intention  of  his  prayers,  an  oc 
cult  in-dwelling  of  a  spirit  other  than  divine,  yet 
never  wholly  human. 

He  had  professedly  .come  back  for  quiet  in  which 
to  study  and  reflect,  to  realise  himself  and  his  own 
positions.  He  announced  no  leanings  toward  the 
priesthood  openly,  but  his  atmosphere  declared  him 
for  serious  preoccupation  and  was  so  respected  by 
the  two  other  men,  who  were  beginning  to  think 
of  town  and  the  coming  season.  Grandee  claimed 
him  as  formerly  for  long  hours  of  talk  and  smoke, 


TRENT  301 

but  Stephanie  and  he  got  on  less  well  than  in  the 
earlier,  less  critical  stages  of  the  acquaintance. 

One  evening,  when  Trent  had  been  dining  with 
them,  the  perfection  of  the  dinner  had  been 
marred  by  his  brusque  contradiction.  He  never 
addressed  her  directly,  or  spoke  her  name  in  the 
third  person,  which  gave  his  conversation  a  sin 
gularly  detached  effect.  She  wondered  if  it  was 
unintentional,  or  if  he  disliked  branding  her  with 
the  name  of  another  man,  or  what  he  did  perhaps 
call  her  in  his  own  thought.  To-night  she  slipped 
away  after  a  little  and  went  into  the  empty  music 
room,  to  play  softly  to  herself. 

After  all,  who  was  this  savage  boy,  that  he 
should  presume  to  be  so  unamiable?  He  was  ut 
terly  egoistic.  His  caprices  were  stupid.  He 
might  have  been  a  pretty  diversion  to  suffice,  here 
in  the  enforced  seclusion.  It  had  looked  so  at  one 
time  in  the  summer, —  but,  no,  he  was  "  bete,"  in 
corrigible,  ignorant  of  usage  and  indifferent  to 
jchivalry.  It  was  but  to  forget  "  the  snows  of  yes 
ter-year  " ;  —  and  after, —  the  roses  of  yesterday ! 

It  might  have  been  an  hour  before  the  curtains 
parted  to  admit  Trent.  She  had  left  the  piano  and 
was  lying  back  in  a  deep  lounging  chair,  staring 
idly  at  the  winged  Loves  in  their  painted  flight 
upon  the  ceiling. 

"  Good-night !  "  he  called  with  a  bright  pleasant 
ness,  quite  unconciliating. 


302  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

"  Good-night,  Mr.  Trent,"  she  returned,  with 
equal  lack  of  colour,  without  rising  or  turning  her 
head.  He  waited  a  moment. 

"  That  is,  unless  you  would  care  to  have  me 
read  ?  "  he  suggested.  Still  she  did  not  move. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  read  ?  "  she  asked ;  implying 
that  to  have  been  the  real  question  in  the  past, 
whenever  she  had  requested  him  to  do  so. 

"  I  do  not  mind  " —  She  heard  him  go  to  the  li 
brary  and  return.  He  seated  himself  in  the  corner 
he  preferred,  turned  on  the  light  and  began  to  read 
without  a  word.  How  he  read,  she  knew,  for  his 
voice  persisted  often  when  he  had  gone.  To-night 
it  was  nothing  more  romantic  than  an  essay  of  the 
renaissance,  but  it  kept  its  golden  haze  intact  under 
his  reading.  For  pages  he  read  on,  too  immersed 
in  the  beauty  he  loved  to  remember  her,  then  sud 
denly  he  raised  his  eyes. 

Her  own  were  full  upon  his  face,  yet  she  was 
not  listening.  He  paled  perceptibly,  at  sight  of 
which  the  suspicion  of  a  smile  relaxed  her  lips. 

He  turned  his  head  impatiently  aside  as  if  an 
noyed. 

"  Don't  look  at  me,"  he  said.  A  peevish  child 
might  have  so  spoken. 

"  Don't  look  at  you,  how  ?  "  she  asked,  without 
ceasing  her  offence. 

"  That  way." 

"But  what  way,  par  example?" 


TRENT  303 

"Don't  look  at  me  hardly  at  all!"  he  cried. 
"  If  you  do  I  am  going  home." 

Her  only  response  was  to  repeat  her  long  glance, 
provokingly,  under  mischievous  lashes,  as  one  might 
tease  a  petulant  child. 

Trent  sprang  to  his  feet  and  began  to  pace  up 
and  down  the  long  room.  He  turned  his  head 
aside  not  to  meet  her  eyes  as  he  approached  her 
chair. 

"  How  you  know  us !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  won 
der  if  you  do  know  the  things  men  think, —  feel,  I 
mean!  I  sometimes  think  you  do, —  and  again  I 
think  if  you  did — " 

"  I  know  that  a  certain  man  is  very  difficult  to 
night, —  very,  very  difficult,"  she  repeated,  her  gaze 
still  on  him.  Her  delicate  chin  was  thrown  up,  her 
figure  flung  careless  as  a  flower  against  the  warm 
hue  of  the  cushions,  one  arm  trailing  almost  to  the 
floor,  the  other  thrown  back,  giving  the  charm  of 
flesh  and  line  through  her  lace  sleeve.  He  knew 
the  pose  unstudied,  for  he  had  seen  her  fall  into 
it  innumerable  times  without  self  consciousness. 
It  beguiled  him  unfailingly,  for  its  gracious 
softness,  a  languor,  and  hint  of  abandon  car 
ried  just  far  enough  not  to  trespass  upon  good 
taste. 

"  You  are  bored,  little  friend,"  she  said  simply. 
"  I  recognise  it.  Mr.  Payne  is  also  bored  here,  to 
madness.  You  never  saw  Mr.  Payne,  did  you? 


304  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

He  is  very  unnecessarily  '  beau,'  for  a  man.  I  will 
get  some  of  his  photographs  to  show  you.  That 
would  be  diverting,  yes?  It  would  perhaps  inter 
est  you  ?  " 

The  daring  insolence  of  it  lay  in  his  own  pos 
sessive  thought  of  her,  of  course, —  the  thought  he 
had  permitted  himself  of  her,  not  in  her  intention 
perhaps.  He  recoiled,  but  he  was  interested.  Oh, 
beyond  a  doubt! 

She  drew  herself  out  of  her  great  chair.  It  was 
some  sort  of  a  rose-coloured  chiffon  thing  she  had 
on,  that  clung  to  her.  He  noticed  that,  as  she 
left  the  room,  throwing  him  one  last  glance, — 
smiling  — 

"  Is  there  anything  the  matter  with  me  ?  "  he  de 
manded,  going  to  the  long  mirror  and  challenging 
his  own  irritated  face. 

"  Your  mouth  is  an  indiscretion !  "  she  cried,  and 
left  him. 

"  Your  clothes  are  a  seduction !  "  he  called  back. 
She  gave  no  sign  of  having  heard  him. 

She  was  gone  long  enough  to  make  him  specu 
late  as  to  whether  she  had  not  been  obliged  to  hunt 
for  the  precious  pictures.  Perhaps  they  had  been 
mislaid  in  some  careless  hiding,  being  no  longer 
a  vital  part  of  her  happiness.  He  hoped  she  could 
not  find  them.  What  a  triumph  if  she  failed ! 
"  Oh,  I  am  glad,  glad !  "  he  exulted  as  the  minutes 
passed. 


TRENT  305 . 

But  she  came,  bringing  several  heavy  silver- 
banded  frames,  and  others  Rhine-stone  studded  and 
glittering  in  her  slender  hands.  Then,  laying  them 
down  upon  the  piano,  she  resumed  her  original  po 
sition  ;  her  palms  lying  open  after  a  mannerism  of 
her  own,  very  helpless  and  appealing  to  him  be 
fore.  Trent  would  not  glance  toward  the  piano. 
He  walked  off  toward  the  door  again.  "  Make 
music,  please,"  he  entreated,  hoping  to  create  a 
new  situation.  "  Play  something  peaceful, —  some 
Beethoven  perhaps." 

"  I  am  not  in  the  mood  for  white  wine  to-night," 
she  refused.  "  I  should  be  obliged  to  play  red,  not 
white, —  something  gipsy-blooded,  Hungarian." 

"  Good-night,  then,"  he  said,  one  hand  on  the  cur 
tain  at  the  doorway. 

"  Good-night !    Au  revoir !  "  she  said  sweetly. 

He  went  out  into  the  hall  and  put  on  his  coat, 
and  again  parted  the  hangings  between. 

"  I  hate  you,"  he  remarked  quietly.  "  Oh,  how 
I  hate  you !  " 

He  was  gone.  She  heard  the  hall  door  bang 
behind  him  regardless  of  Grandee's  first  sleep. 
She  did  not  move.  There  was  no  doubt  now  about 
the  curve  of  her  lips  in  that  relaxed  lure  of  some 
thing  that  was  hardly  a  smile,  but  her  heart  was 
beating  deliciously.  She  saw  the  rose-hued  chiffon 
quiver  above  it,  like  the  tremulous  wings  of  a  but 
terfly  over  the  heliotrope.  She  laid  her  hand  there 


306  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

as  if  to  seize  the  traitor  in  her  breast,  but  really 
for  the  wild  joy  of  living  it  recalled. 

She  was  in  grey  the  next  time  he  saw  her. 

"  Ashes  ?  "  he  enquired. 

"  Yes, —  of  roses,"  she  replied. 

Now  came  the  days  when  they  met  with  a  loud, 
bright  pleasantness,  affecting  an  interest  in  the  scar 
let  salvias,  or  the  blue  jays  darting  through  the 
pines,  quite  foreign  to  either  under  normal  condi 
tions, —  days  when  their  eyes  never  met  and  their 
topics  were  studiously  impersonal,  when  their  con 
versation  was  addressed  to  Grandee,  and  he  became 
imperatively  a  factor  in  Trent's  more  frequent  vis 
its, —  the  medium  through  whom  spirit  found 
spirit  and  was  momentarily  unafraid. 

The  actual  Trent  was,  as  yet,  to  Stephanie  only 
as  the  sea  shell,  through  which  a  flood  of  lost 
memories  poured  in  her  ears  and  chanted  of 
drowned  beauty,  and  lost  lives,  and  secret  hidden 
treasure  below  the  surface  of  the  world.  The  poets 
of  all  time  sang  through  his  lips.  She  understood 
them  now  as  never  before.  The  Immortals  spoke 
to  her.  He  was  saturated  with  all  that  was  essen 
tially  lyric,  but  no  glance  escaped  him  that  included 
her  in  his  own  joy  of  it  all.  It  seemed  to  her  he 
had  the  superb  self-control  of  the  great  actor.  He 
was  either  very  deep,  or  very  stupid.  She  did  not 
believe  him  stupid, —  therefore  ?  —  He  became  to 
her  more  and  more  a  living  paradox.  To  her  own 


TRENT  307 

audience  she  called  him  Prince  Paradox.  Again, 
she  longed  to  get  away  from  it  all,  to  elude  the 
Fate  that  seemed  hovering,  the  inequality  of  the 
struggle,  the  embarrassment  of  the  outcome,  if  it 
were  to  be  an  outcome  beyond  this  state  of  nervous 
suspense.  But  Grandee  was  less  strong  and  would 
miss  her  inconsolably,  even  if  he  did  not  refuse 
outright  to  let  her  away  from  him  in  Raleigh's  ab 
sence.  So  here  she  was,  and  must  stand,  with  no 
more  hope  of  flight  than  that  of  a  picket  on  duty. 
If  Trent  had  been  also  a  Catholic  she  might  have 
imagined  that  some  lapse,  mental  or  moral,  was  be 
ing  expiated.  She  would  have  been  at  loss  to  say 
to  herself  what, — 

The  first  time  they  found  themselves  unavoid 
ably  alone  after  his  outburst,  was  a  twilight  when 
he  overtook  her  on  her  way  to  the  hill  from  which 
her  train  was  visible. 

He  had  telephoned  not  an  hour  earlier  that  he 
could  not  dine  with  them,  as  he  was  going  out  of 
town.  She  would  not  admit  that  it  mattered. 
Why  should  she  care? 

She  started  for  her  lonely  stroll  as  usual,  and 
met  him  at  the  garden  gate. 

"  Were  you  just  going  out?  "  he  asked  surprised, 
knowing  it  was  never  her  habit. 

"  Not  immediately,"  she  replied  with  a  glance  at 
her  watch. 

"  Do  not  let  me  detain  you,"  formally. 


308  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

"  No  ?    You  were  not  coming  in,  then  ?  " 

"  No,  I  am  just  walking  by." 

"  Oh,  yes,  on  your  way  to  Westerly,  I  suppose  ?  " 
It  lay  in  the  other  direction  and  she  knew  it. 

"  Yes,  I  am  only  walking  down  your  road.  I 
mean  I  had  no  especial  reason  for  coming  this 
way." 

"  Then  you  will  pardon  me  if  I  am  not  at  home, 
—  since  — " 

"  Since  I  am  not  calling?  Yes,  certainly." 
Again  she  glanced  at  her  watch.  It  was  after  five. 
The  crickets  sang  loudly  to  suggest  that  evening 
was  on  the  way. 

"  Were  you  going  anywhere  I  was  invited  ?  "  he 
asked,  nettled  by  her  haste  to  be  rid  of  him. 
"  Newbold  always  tells  me  if  I  am  invited  to  any 
thing.  He  did  not  speak  of  any  affair  to-day, — 
to  my  recollection.  Yet  I  have  a  vague  premoni 
tion—" 

"  You  were  asked  to  dine  at  Sky  High,  perhaps 
that  was  it  ?  "  she  suggested. 

"  That  could  not  have  been  it.  That  would 
have  been  a  preferred  engagement,  not  common 
stock, —  beside,  you  are  not  going  to  dine  at  five 
o'clock !  "  he  reminded  her. 

"  No,  I  was  going  into  the  forest." 

"  Do  you  mind  taking  me  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  You  were  not  very  polite  to 
Grandee,  it  seems  to  me." 


TRENT  309 

"  I  was  not  rude,"  he  explained  eagerly,  "  be 
cause  I  did  not  mean  to  be.  I  am  never  uninten 
tionally  rude.  When  I  am  I  mean  it  to  be  so  un 
derstood,  and  I  hate  the  creature  who  says, —  he 
did  not  mean  it, —  never  mind!  Rudeness  is  the 
sharp  weapon  of  a  gentleman.  It  ought  to  be  so 
understood  in  society.  Grandee  knows  it.  He 
never  thought  me  rude  for  one  instant ! " 

"  But  you  hate  Nature  also,  and  in  the  forest 
to  be  content,  one  must  love  her — " 

"  Why  do  you  never  forget  that  ?  I  only  spoke 
of  that  brute  of  a  bird  that  creaks  so  it  wakes  me 
up  in  the  morning.  I  hate  a  person  who  remem 
bers!  I  do  not  hate  all  Nature.  I  only  hate  talk 
ing  about  Nature.  Everything  has  been  said,  and 
Nature  is  only  lovely  when  it  hints  of  the  things 
we  feel,  and  that  is  psychology.  I  will  talk  that 
sort  of  translation  to  you  in  the  forest,  with  pleas 
ure." 

"  Balzac  does  not  recommend  that  topic  to 
tete-a-tete,  as  a  rule — "  she  objected. 

"  Every  rule  has  it  deception !  Take  me  with 
you  and  I  will  prove  it." 

They  walked  fast,  as  people  bent  on  a  definite 
errand,  then  leaned  against  the  bars  at  the  end  and 
yielded  self  to  the  spell  of  the  October  dusk.  It 
was  dark  in  the  fields  below  them.  Already  the 
straight  blue  smoke  from  some  tiny  chimney,  hinted 
of  the  labourer's  return  to  his  evening  meal.  The 


3io  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

dusk  rose  as  a  tide  threatening  to  envelope  them. 
She  had  grown  silent.  He  had  effaced  himself  as 
far  as  possible.  A  dog  bayed  in  the  distance,  then 
all  was  still.  The  purple  shadows  lost  their  colour 
and  groped  as  hands  that  are  empty  and  seek  to 
be  filled  with  others  empty  as  themselves.  To  her 
it  should  have  brought  an  echo  of  universal  "  An- 
gelus,"  yet  she  had  never  in  all  her  life  before 
known  such  an  hour  with  a  man  beside  her.  The 
novelty  of  it  kept  sacred  associations  from  her 
mind.  How  long  the  magic  might  have  held  them, 
who  shall  say,  save  that  with  a  wild  shriek,  at 
frantic  speed,  the  lighted  train  tore  by.  Stephanie 
shivered. 

"  I  adore  itj  "  she  said. 

"  It  means  the  city  —  to-night !  I  always  want 
to  go !  "  he  answered. 

"  It  is  the  world  calling."  She  turned  to  go 
home  as  she  said  it. 

"Do  you  feel  that  too?  The  passion  of  cities 
within  reach  to-night  ?  "  He  saw  by  the  tense  re 
straint  of  her  face  that  it  not  only  meant  as  much 
to  her  as  to  him,  but  more, —  oh,  far  more!  And 
though  she  made  no  answer,  he  knew  she  had  come 
here  to-night  from  no  chance,  but  oft-repeated, 
restless  habit.  It  hurt  him  more  than  anything  he 
had  ever  known  a  woman  do.  That  night  his  new 
enemy,  insomnia,  got  him,  and  he  heard  the  two 
o'clock  freight  and  the  four  o'clock  milk  train  be- 


TRENT  311 

fore  he  forgot  to  hope  that  she  had  not,  and  to 
remind  himself  that  She,  in  this  case,  was  another 
man's  wife. 

He  wished  himself  a  Catholic,  that  by  saying  a 
rosary  he  might  be  done  with  the  cares  of  his  day 
and  sleep  in  peace  while  the  Saints  protected,  or 
that  he  might  buy  surcease  with  a  hundred  repeti 
tions  of  Hail  Mary!  He  wondered  if  She  was? 
But,  by  the  contrariety  of  Fate,  she  was  as  it  hap 
pened  asleep  with  her  head  on  the  gently  rounded 
arm  of  Morpheus,  the  arch  coquette,  who  perhaps 
was  breathing  her  own  wavering  arabesques  upon 
her  in  dreams  of  wayward  sweetness. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

TWO  BANKS  OF  A  RIVER 

THE  more  seriously  Raleigh   reflected  on 
the  incident  of  Father  Mayhew,  the  less 
he    enjoyed    that    innovation    upon    the 
orthodox    calm    of    Sky    High.     He    accordingly 
wrote  to  Stephanie,  a  letter  of  some  length,  just 
before  his  final  break  with  civilisation  and  plunge 
into  the  woods, —  a  letter  in  which  effusiveness  was 
intended  to  smother  a  prohibition  of  the  recurrence 
in  his  absence. 

At  his  letter  Stephanie  had  neither  smiled  or 
frowned  —  which  is  not  the  best  omen  for  a  hus 
band's  law  or  devotion.  Steven  Randall  had  also 
received  a  letter  from  Raleigh  at  the  same  time, 
peremptory  in  tone  and  baldly  laying  down  rules 
and  regulations  for  the  conduct  of  his  wife,  as  if 
Stephanie  had  been  a  child  intrusted  to  him  for 
training.  To  which  Grandee  replied,  as  befitted 
one  diplomat  to  another,  making  no  mention  of 
the  disputed  subject,  dwelling  at  length  on  his 
pleasure  in  Stephanie's  companionship,  but  adding 
in  the  postscript  so  rarely  found  in  the  correspond 
ence  of  untactful  men, — 

312 


TWO  BANKS  OF  A  RIVER  313 

"  Turkey  insists  on  lighting  and  buoying  the  headwaters 
of  the  Gulf  I  am  told.  She  has  yet  to  learn  evidently 
that  you  do  not  own  a  river  unless  you  own  both  banks." 

Which  carried  no  special  assurance  of  security  to 
the  man  who  read  it  in  a  double  sense,  as  it  was 
intended,  and  perfectly  comprehended  its  import. 

He  estimated  his  wife's  piety,  like  that  of  all 
young  and  charming  women,  as  of  a  barometric 
fervour,  to  a  certain  degree  depending  upon  other 
given  circumstances.  If  he  wronged  her  in  his 
reduction  of  the  personal  equation,  it  was  an  in 
justice  that,  at  least,  gave  him  some  degree  of 
peace  and  satisfaction  in  his  most  unwilling  exile. 
And  whatever  the  other  bank  of  the  river  at  which 
Grandee  hinted,  he  preferred  it  unhesitatingly  to 
the  wiles  of  the  priest  and  the  power  of  repeated 
confession,  in  which  respect  he  resembled  a  mul 
titude  of  martyred  men  since  Christendom,  tyran 
nically  bent  on  possessing  the  individual  being  of 
the  woman  God  gave  them, —  lest  they  be  alone, — 
always  reserving  their  own  right  to  exclusive  sov 
ereignty  of  themselves,  unquestioned  and  supreme. 

Stephanie's  nature  was  too  rich  on  both  the  side 
of  human  longing  and  divine  intuition,  to  confine 
her  forever  to  either  one  life  or  the  other.  She 
might  have  lived  for  religion  or  pleasure  with  equal 
predisposition  and  not  too  much  line  of  least  re 
sistance  to  overcome  in  either  vocation.  She  had 


314  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

no  gift  of  abstraction.  All  she  felt  or  knew  came 
to  her  with  the  personal  element  uppermost  and 
inevitable.  Love  or  the  Church  might  in  turn  pre 
sent  their  claim  to  her,  sure  of  consent,  if  her  heart 
was  captivated.  Father  Mayhew  had  found  her 
no  less  sincere  in  her  impulse  for  guidance  that  it 
was  actuated  by  her  tangled  love  affairs,  and  his 
absolution  had  been  followed  by  a  period  of  com 
plete  renunciation,  which  gave  way,  in  turn,  to  an 
other  phase  of  life,  temporarily  driving  all,  save 
the  mechanically  repeated  forms  of  her  religion, 
out  of  her  mind. 

It  is  to  have  missed  it  all,  for  some  women,  if  the 
brain  has  known  no  master.  In  the  same  sense 
that  one  may  be  mistress  of  a  man's  heart,  so  a 
woman  needs  the  lover  of  her  brain,  whose  mental 
intimacy  contributes  the  subtle  quickening  to  every 
common  experience. 

Stephanie  and  Trent  talked  of  everything  under 
heaven  with  a  frankness  that  astounded  them  both. 
She  might  indeed  have  been  the  mere  ghost  of  a 
woman  she  often  insisted  she  was,  or  his  grand 
mother,  or  another  man,  for  all  hindrance  they  met 
in  free  interchange  of  ideas  upon  all  the  most 
tantalising  and  impossible  subjects.  Whether  they 
began  in  history  or  psychology,  they  always  really 
talked  about  themselves,  of  course.  They  talked 
much  of  marriage, —  ideal  marriage  and  as  it  actu 
ally  exists,  and  of  the  girl  he  would  some  time 


TWO  BANKS  OF  A  RIVER  315 

marry.  And  they  talked  of  her  absent  husband, 
as  illustrative  of  general  matrimonial  tendencies, 
vaguely  at  first, —  then  more  closely,  until  he  and 
the  shadow  girl  of  Trent's  future,  assumed  the 
proportions  of  a  third  and  fourth  party,  turning 
their  iete-a-tete  into  the  safer  "  partie  carre,"  un 
der  whose  chaperoning  re-assurance  they  dared  an 
even  closer  intimacy  of  ideas. 

"  Christine  has  always  said  it  would  be  nothing 
but  hysterics,  when  I  fell  in  love,"  Trent  said,  hov 
ering  near  the  thin  ice  purposely. 

"  One  would  have  said  asterisks,  preferably,"  she 
returned,  eyebrows  slightly  lifted  in  provocation. 

"  I  think  it  is  old  fashioned  to  make  love  to 
women  now-a-days.  It  seems  to  have  gone  by  en 
tirely.  Men  never  tell  women  they  love  them, — " 

"No?    Then  what  is  the  American  manner?" 

"  We  tell  them  they  interfere  with  our  work, — 
or  they  make  us  nervous.  It  means  ever  so  much 
more.  Don't  you  think  so?" 

"  It  is  very  scientific,  but  I  find  it  too  little  spir- 
ituelle.  Love  is  for  the  soul,  not  the  nervous  sys 
tem." 

"  Love  is  a  rare  bird !  I  was  talking  about  mak 
ing  love,  that  is  a  pastime  not  a  condition.  I  have 
never  loved  any  woman  longer  than  two  weeks." 

And  she  knew  he  had  never  loved  before,  and, 
beside  what  he  felt  to  be  her  experience  in  that 
peculiar  fever,  was  ashamed  of  his  own  uninfected 


316  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

nature  and  assuming  a  past  out  of  sheer  emula 
tion. 

"  One  sometimes  imagines  that  it  would  be  easier 
to  continue  to  love,  if  one  promised  not  to, —  it  is 
so  final,  so  in  the  past,  to  make  a  contract  of  one's 
sensations  and  then  cease  to  be  moved  by  any  new 
emotion  " —  she  complained. 

"  Daphne  keeping  house  and  forgetting  how  to 
run !  "  he  chimed  in  gladly. 

"  Many  times,  if  there  was  the  uncertainty  of 
love,  there  would  be  always  the  provocation.  If 
one  fears  that  each  day  may  present  a  charm  more 
gracious  than  one's  own,  one  makes  the  effort  to 
be  desired,  as  at  first, —  but  when  one  is  sure,  it 
is  like  the  epitaph  upon  one's  tomb,  written  for 
ever." 

"  You  do  not  agree  with  our  American  idea, 
that  mutual  confidence  is  the  rock  of  married  hap 
piness  and  security  ?  "  he  pursued. 

"  Of  the  institution  of  marriage  and  the  family, 
naturally.  I  was  speaking  of  love,"  was  the  swift 
answer.  "  You  will  understand  better  when  you 
are  married.  She  will  be  obliged  to  be  a  girl  of 
most  unselfish  spirit  to  make  your  life  brilliant, 
and  never  weary  you.  I  shall  love  her  for  all  she 
can  be  to  you, —  that  I  never  could,"  she  added,  in 
response  to  his  reproachful  glance.  He  had  come 
to  all  but  dislike  that  girl.  Her  possibility  got 
between  them,  for  he  knew  she  probably  existed, 


TWO  BANKS  OF  A  RIVER          317 

and  at  present  he  wanted  to  believe  she  did  not. 

But  it  was  only  to  herself  Stephanie  added, — 
"  and  for  all  she  can  never  be  to  you  that  I  shall 
have  been,  and  yet  may  be ! " 

Then  when  he  grew  dreamy  over  that  dim  charm 
that  was  to  draw  him  into  newer  toils  in  the  blur 
of  the  future,  she  recalled  him,  by  reminding  him 
of  her  omniscient  Balzac's  saying  — "  men  and 
women  are  simply  pegs  on  which  to  hang  an  ideal !  " 
—  and  for  a  week  effaced  herself,  excusing  her 
presence  when  he  was  at  Sky  High  on  one  pretext 
or  another,  to  heighten  the  truth  of  this  sage  im 
pression,  until  a  notice  appeared  in  the  columns  of 
the  local  weekly  newspaper,  which  forced  her  hand 
for  fear  of  what  further  prank  he  might  dare  to 
play.  It  was  inserted  among  the  Lost  Articles, 
with  entire  decorum: 

Lost  or  Stolen. 

A  Peg,  suitable  for  supporting  an  ideal  of  medium 
weight.  Valuable  only  for  association's  sake.  Finder  will 
be  suitably  rewarded  by  returning  to  the  owner  after  dark. 
No  questions  asked  or  answered. 

C.  I.  RUINS. 

Carthage  in  ruins,  of  course !  Was  there  ever  such 
a  versatile  rascal?  And  she  could  not  refuse  him, 
for  Grandee  had  returned  from  a  brief  trip  to 
town  to  see  Doctor  Wylin,  and  equilibrium  was  re 
stored  once  more. 


3i8  THE  SIN  OF  'ANGELS 

The  autumn  was  doing  its  best  to  excite  to  hu 
man  conflagration.  Great  fires  leapt  on  the  hearths 
inside,  and  outside  the  colour  blazed  and  flamed 
and  threw  countless  golden  bonnets,  not  only  "  over 
the  mill,"  but  over  all  creation  in  an  impartial  de 
lirium  of  recklessness.  The  days  were  pierced 
with  a  thrill  to  match  the  nights  of  frost.  The 
hunter's  moon  was  abroad,  and  the  sound  of  nuts 
dropping  through  the  darkness  was  as  a  stealthy 
footfall  of  approaching  winter,  or  the  slowing 
heart-beat  of  the  year  made  audible.  The  gardens 
were  blackened  in  a  night,  and  scurrying  shrouds 
of  crimson  leaves  ran  riot  along  the  forbidden  pre 
cincts,  while  Joel,  with  the  real  last  judgment 
furor,  cut  and  burned  up,  and  covered  over,  glad 
to  be  done  with  the  beauty  and  doubt  of  his  long 
season.  To  Stephanie,  the  chill  of  autumn  had 
always  before  meant  the  return  to  cities ;  the  quick 
ening  spell  of  Paris,  "  first  nights  "  at  the  theatres, 
the  Salon,  the  shiver  of  the  crowd  playing  upon 
her  nerves,  irritating  and  alluring  by  turn ;  the 
magic  of  lighted  streets,  the  accumulated  sense  of 
humanity  pressed  close.  Paris  and  love  had  here 
tofore  been  inseparable  to  her.  Now,  the  alchemy 
of  solitude  and  colour  turned  reflection  in  upon  it 
self.  The  autumn  here  might  mean  nothing  akin 
to  its  former  significance,  but  might  carry  with  it 
hearths  aflame,  reposeful  embers  glowing,  encir 
cling  arms,  and  sleep  illumined  by  dreams  only  less 


TWO  BANKS  OF  A  RIVER  319 

ardent  than  reality, —  love  lived  close  in  the  flesh, 
clinging  to  its  own  in  another,  buried  beneath  the 
pall  of  silence,  sequestered  from  all  the  world  with 
"  the  hiddenness  of  perfect  things." 

Suddenly  one  night,  when  Grandee  was  ailing 
and  early  gone  upstairs,  when  the  south  wind  and 
rain,  coming  at  nightfall  after  a  white  frost,  had 
wrapped  Sky  High  in  a  winding  sheet  of  gust  and 
darkness,  it  happened,  just  as  any  one  but  either 
of  these  two  concerned  might  have  foreseen. 
There  was  no  prelude.  There  was  no  precipitat 
ing  event.  There  was  no  excuse.  There  could  be 
no  condonation.  Without  a  flash  of  warning  their 
arms  were  about  each  other, —  his  soft  hair  pressed 
against  her  own.  No  word  was  spoken,  but  she 
was  sobbing  like  a  desperate  child,  "  You  have 
broken  my  heart,  Cheri,  you  have  broken  my 
heart!" 

He  only  held  her  gently,  firmly,  as  if  defiant  of 
all  the  united  powers  leagued  to  take  her  from  him, 
—  as  if  he  had  swept  her  from  some  hideous  peril 
not  yet  past,  to  temporary  safety.  In  their  un 
broken  human  silence  the  great  wind  leaned  against 
the  long  windows  as  if  to  break  through  and  set 
them  free  upon  the  night.  She  gradually  released 
herself  and  drooped  away  from  him  down  be 
fore  the  fire.  Trent  stood  staring  into  the  flame 
that  burnt  him ;  his  face  worn  by  suffering,  tor 
mented  by  regret  and  instant  remorse.  Sin 


320  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

is     so     swift !     Regret    so    long, —  even    eternal ! 

Stephanie's  face  was  hidden  in  her  hands. 
Through  her  mind  ran  the  revelations  of  her  con 
secutive  disloyalty;  —  to  Raleigh,  to  Grandee  who 
trusted  her  implicitly  with  the  honourable  hospi 
tality  of  his  home,  to  her  vows  made  so  solemnly 
to  Father  Mayhew.  Where  were  they  all  now? 
And  why  did  they  seem  not  to  matter  any  more  — 
unutterably  vain  —  and  of  no  importance, —  of  no 
connection  with  herself?  Oh,  why  did  they  not 
leave  her  in  peace,  conscienceless,  but  only  the  Ma 
donna  knew  how  blest? 

Trent,  overwhelmed  with  a  physical  sensation  of 
cold,  threw  himself  down  in  Grandee's  great  chair, 
spent  by  his  effort  at  self-control.  He  was  bewil 
dered  but  firm  against  further  weakness.  With  an 
iron  grip  he  held  his  senses  in  check,  waiting  for 
strength  to  leave,  searching  for  the  words  in  which 
to  win  her  forgiveness  for  his  appalling  indiscre 
tion.  This  was  the  end  of  course.  There  only 
remained  to  him  to  go, —  if  possible  to  go  with  her 
pardon. 

He  was  almost  sufficiently  sure  of  himself  to 
speak, —  almost  firm  enough  to  risk  leaving  her 
with  the  formal  expression  of  regret  he  was  men 
tally  framing,  when  she  suddenly  came  to  him  and 
dropping  on  her  knees  beside  him,  hid  her  wet 
face  on  his.  shoulder. 

Very    reverently   then   he   bent   over   her   slight 


TWO  BANKS  OF  A  RIVER  321 

form  so  shaken  by  its  unbearable  emotion,  sooth 
ing  her  as  tenderly  as  he  knew  how,  begging  her 
over  and  over  not  to  cry;  miserable  for  her  and 
for  himself. 

She  remained  so,  motionless,  passionless  until 
the  sobs  that  shook  her  at  intervals  became  less 
frequent,  then  she  raised  her  head  and  for  the  first 
time  they  looked  unflinchingly  into  each  other's 
eyes. 

"  You  are  not  crying  now !  "  he  sighed,  infinitely 
grateful  for  her  calm. 

"  Gaston ! "  she  breathed  back  at  him,  her  lips 
close  to  his  own.  He  tried  to  turn  his  eyes  away 
but  he  could  not. 

"  Gaston !  "  she  whispered  again.  "  I  am  not 
crying  if  you  care, —  what  is  there  then  to  cry 
about  ?  "  She  knelt,  gazing  up  at  him,  bewildered 
by  what  she  saw.  A  rapt  expression  lit  her  face 
as  the  first  coming  of  the  dawn.  "  Is  it  true  ? 
Ah,  mon  Dieu,  yes,  it  is  true ! "  she  cried,  and 
flung  her  arms  about  him,  lifting  her  lips  to  his 
trustfully  as  a  child  that  has  found  the  way  home 
across  a  dark  and  alien  world.  It  was  a  groan 
that  escaped  the  man,  as  he  answered  her  first  kiss 
with  his  own.  It  was  he  who  drew  back,  closing 
his  eyes  as  he  muttered,  "  Oh,  God,  why  must  a 
man  live  on  after  this ! "  But  her  arms  clung 
about  him  and  her  vibrant  voice  declared  bravely, 
"If  you  love  me,  I  do  not  care  for  anything  else 


322  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

in  this  world  or  the  next.  If  you  love  me,  I  for 
give  God  the  '  faux  pas '  of  my  existence.  All  is 
arranged  satisfactorily  between  us,  definitely,  for 
ever  !  "  She  was  an  amazing  revelation  to  him,  in 
her  swift  succession  of  mood,  as  she  lavished  her 
love  upon  him  in  her  prodigal  foreign  endearment. 
Aghast,  at  first,  at  the  situation  he  had  brought 
upon  them,  who  was  he  to  resist  her  unnerving 
nearness,  the  caress  of  her  magnetic  fingers,  the 
proud  lips  that  murmured  their  humble  need  of 
his  love  so  unreservedly  ?  Her  distrust  of  her  hap 
piness  touched  him  more  than  all  her  self-revelation 
or  avowal.  She  could  not  believe  it, —  until  he 
drew  her  to  him  silently,  with  that  possessive  cer 
tainty  speech  can  never  gainsay.  Then  she  rose 
and  stood  erect  before  him,  as  she  delivered  her 
own  sentence,  "  Now,  I  have  betrayed  every  one 
who  trusted  me,  for  you " —  she  said  coldly, — 
"  and  you, —  how  you  have  made  me  suffer  all 
these  past  weeks !  " 

"  I  am  glad !  I  am  glad ! "  he  exulted,  and 
again  they  clung  to  each  other, 

"  Sight  and  speech  extinguished,  each  on  each." 

"  I  am  dead  and  buried.  It  is  impossible.  It 
cannot  be  true !  "  she  reiterated,  at  last. 

"There  is  nothing  else  true!  Nothing!"  he  re 
assured  her. 

"  But  I  am  just  a  ghost  —  I  am  — "  she  could 


TWO  BANKS  OF  A  RIVER  323 

not  say  married, — "  It  cannot  be  possible,"  she  re 
peated,  transfigured  if  incredulous  yet. 

"  Oui,  c'est  vrai,  c'est  vrai !  "  he  insisted,  kissing 
her  words  away  and  falling  unconsciously  into  the 
language  they  both  loved.  Then,  both  in  French, 
they  began  to  whisper  close,  each  to  the  other,  in 
sanely  the  stolen  sweet  — 

"  Je  t'aime," 

"Je  t'adore!" 

Neither  could  breathe  it  often  enough  or  hear  it 
often  enough.  They  were  starving,  thirsting  for 
each  other. 

"  Why  would  you  never  tell  me  ? "  she  begged. 

"  I  never  meant  to  tell  you,  if  I  could  help  it." 

"  I  only  thought  of  you  as  part  of  the  colour  and 
fragrance  of  the  summer." 

"  I  will  be  that  or  anything  else  you  like  me  for, 
—  even  the  heat  of  summer,"  he  protested.  "  But 
I  am  dazed,  of  course,  by  the  marvel  of  it  all." 

"  It  was  the  fault  of  your  mouth,"  she  said 
solemnly. 

"  It  knows  how  to  love !  "     He  proved  it  to  her. 

"  And  that  is  all  I  know, —  how  to  love,"  she 
confessed. 

"  There  is  nothing  else  to  know !  " 

Stephanie  gave  a  little  shiver  of  satisfaction, 
then  she  drew  back,  and  shook  her  head  sadly. 
"  I  do  not  believe  it.  It  is  not  possible  — "  she 
stammered  brokenly  — "  Since  when,  Gaston  ?  " 


324  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

"  Since  a  long  time,  as  the  French  say,"  he  told 
her. 

That  was  all,  broken  sentences,  breathless  ex 
clamations,  staggering  sighs  long  prisoned, —  no 
reckoning  with  past  or  future, —  nothing  but  to 
night  and  the  forgetting  that  sundered  them  from 
reality.  His  self-control  wavered  under  the  fran 
tic  beat  of  her  heart  beneath  his  own,  that  gave 
him  more  than  any  word  or  caress,  the  truth  of 
her  surrender. 

She  hoped  he  would  not  come  next  day.  It 
was  too  soon  to  banish  the  enamouring  memory  of 
him  even  by  his  actual  touch.  She  dreaded  him, 
and  longed  for  nothing  else  but  him.  Cleverly  as 
he  had  masked,  untiringly  as  he  had  fenced,  she 
had  found  his  true  self  in  the  avowal  she  had  so 
dreaded,  so  longed  to  hear.  She  could  not  meet 
him  before  Grandee, —  and  yet.  She  turned  weak 
at  the  mere  thought  of  the  sight  of  him,  a  faint- 
ness  overwhelmed  her  in  anticipation  of  it.  She 
crept  off  alone  to  the  little  forest.  Her  world 
was  crashing  about  her.  She  could  not  understand 
or  protest  or  reason.  She  could  only  run  away  like 
a  silly  sheep  whose  sole  resource  lay  in  an  alert 
sense  of  danger.  She  did  not  want  to  think.  She 
only  wanted  to  re-live  his  voice,  the  pain  and  pas 
sion  of  their  bodily  swoon,  his  spirit  breathing 
upon  her  soul. 


TWO  BANKS  OF  A  RIVER  325 

When  she  saw  him,  out  upon  the  highway  with 
Newbold,  the  boyish  arrogance  of  him  was  empha 
sised  in  every  light  motion  of  his  faultless  figure, 
—  a  figure  carved  in  fervour, —  and  in  the  auda 
city  of  his  grace,  that  old  assurance,  diminished 
of  late  in  his  uncertainty  of  himself  and  her,  reas 
serting  itself  startlingly.  He  walked  to-day  like 
a  young  hero  of  mythology  whose  wings  were 
momentarily  folded  while  he  trod  the  under-world 
to  search  its  mysteries. 

Newbold  thought  his  manner  a  trifle  too  natural 
not  to  be  over-done,  but  reminded  himself  that 
people  who  rarely  are  transparent,  may  happen  to 
be  what  they  seem,  by  chance,  and  so  fool  their 
friends  both  ways,  and  refused  to  allow  the  ulterior 
explanation  his  own  mind  afforded  for  this  sud 
den,  breezy  cheerfulness  on  Trent's  part.  It  was 
certainly  intended  to  put  him  off, —  but  from 
what? 

After  three  days  of  singularly  unbroken  com 
munion  with  male  society,  Remmington  spoke  out. 
That  is,  he  made  the  disconnected  enquiry  of  New- 
bold, 

"Is  she  still  up  there?" 

"Saw  her  yesterday — " 

"Then  what  the  devil?"— 

"  Exactly." 

Which  was  how  matters  stood  at  the  Squirrel's 
Nest.  One  afternoon  some  days  later  while  a  dis- 


326  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

mal  rain  lashed  the  windows, —  raining  in  a  mere 
bleak  fashion  as  if  no  longer  jubilant  at  the  havoc 
it  had  wrought, —  Stephanie  on  joining  Grandee  in 
the  library  for  tea  found  Trent  there  before  her. 

Her  frock  was  sombre  black,  by  chance.  She 
saw  Trent  note  it  at  a  glance  and  augur  from  it. 
Their  chat  ran  on,  of  everything  save  that  of 
which  each  was  thinking.  Both  vied  to  keep 
Grandee  with  them.  He  was  their  anchor,  their 
lighthouse.  They  forestalled,  as  by  mutual  con 
cern,  each  attempt  at  withdrawal,  each  suggestion 
of  his  afternoon  nap,  all  repetition  of  Doctor  Wy- 
lin's  orders  as  to  rest  before  dinner.  At  last  their 
every  effort  failed.  He  was  rising.  He  was  leaving 
the  room.  He  was  actually  gone.  The  shadows 
crept  out  of  the  corners  and  the  light  of  the  log  fire 
burnished  the  friendly  backs  of  the  wise  old  books 
and  flickered  over  the  tea  tray  to  the  silver  cruci 
fix  Stephanie  wore  on  its  emerald  and  silver  chain. 

Until  the  servant  had  taken  the  tray  Trent  chat 
ted  on  nervously,  as  if  he  dared  not  stop.  Ste 
phanie  had  ceased  talking  or  even  listening.  Fi 
nally  he  felt  it  and  stopped  chattering,  smoking 
hard. 

His  determination  to  withhold  himself  was  so 
open  that  she  could  not  make  the  least  effort  to 
ward  resuming  their  interrupted  relation.  When 
the  constraint  grew  intolerable  he  remarked,  as  if 
aggrieved  by  her  unresponsiveness, 


TWO  BANKS  OF  A  RIVER  327 

"  I  hoped  you  would  be  amusing  this  afternoon. 
I  wanted  to  be  amused." 

She  sat  looking  straight  into  the  fire,  one  hand 
on  her  pearl  crucifix.  Her  black  frock  invited  the 
shadows,  which  at  every  moment  enclosed  her  in  a 
softer  density. 

"  You  have  believed  I  would  be  able  to  be  amus 
ing?  You  have  pulled  my  world  down  about  me 
and  you  have  believed  it  a  comedy  only?  I  do  not 
comprehend  you  in  the  least,"  she  replied  gravely. 

"  We  had  better  begin  to  put  it  back  by  treating 
it  as  one,  had  we  not  ?  "  he  asked,  tentatively  she 
thought,  as  if  to  try  her. 

"  Myself,  I  do  not  know  what  there  is  to  be  done 
about  it,"  she  said,  still  pale  and  intent  upon  the 
fire,  as  if  reading  her  fate  in  the  embers.  "  I  am 
not  able  to  think  any  course  out  to  the  end.  I 
have  not  slept  well,  and  was  obliged  to  assist  all 
trains  to  mount  the  hill,  during  these  last  nights  — " 

"  And  I  have  not  slept  at  all !  "  he  broke  in. 

"  Was  it  true,  or  were  you  lying  to  me  ?  "  she 
asked,  as  if  inspired  by  a  new  suspicion. 

"  I  did  not  lie." 

"  But  you  find  it  is  not  true, —  that  you  have 
deceived  yourself?  It  is  no  longer  as  it  was 
then  ?  "  Inwardly  she  was  shaking  with  terror  of 
his  possible  reply. 

"  What  about  the  ten  commandments  ?  "  He  at 
tempted  to  put  it  jestingly. 


328  THE  SIN  OF  'ANGELS 

"  They  are  Jewish,  intended  only  for  the  dirty 
wandering  tribes  who  live  in  tents.  They  have 
nothing  to  do  with  our  modern  society," — she 
qualified,  with  a  shrug.  There  was  no  real  alarm 
for  his  scruple  now  in  her  easy  justification.  Her 
first  sharp  recognition  of  her  own  disloyalties 
had  been  dulled,  if  not  effaced  by  her  desire  that 
he  should  not  take  back  what  he  had  given.  She 
rose  slowly  and  stood  in  her  familiar  place  by 
the  fire,  leaning  a  little,  swaying  slightly  as  she 
spoke,  pleading  for  their  right  to  love. 

"  I  have  repeated  many  prayers  and  meditated 
much,  Cheri.  After  these  so  sleepless  nights  and 
days  of  waiting,  this  is  my  conclusion.  If  I  can 
give  you  something  of  value  to  your  life,  is  it  not 
my  best,  my  only  power  to  live?  And  where  is 
the  fault?  Even  Father  Mayhew  would  absolve 
for  such  an  innocent  indulgence.  Also,  it  is  out 
of  my  possibility  to  seek  him  now,  for  I  am  under 
perpetual  if  loving  surveillance  here,  by  anti-Cath 
olic  command.  Grandee  is  too  much  a  man  of  the 
world, —  of  my  world,  to  condemn,  and  after,  even 
he  can  perfectly  remain  in  ignorance.  The  exac 
tions  of  convention  and  good  taste  will  naturally 
be  strictly  observed."  Her  voice  fell  to  a  lower, 
m6re  intense  pitch  as  she  turned  to  him  now,  say 
ing  rapidly, — "  Imagine  what  love  may  be  to  us ! 
I  am  so  alone,  so  terribly  alone!  And  is  it  not 
that  a  man  succeeds  twice  who  has  the  soul  of  a 


TWO  BANKS  OF  A  RIVER  329 

woman  to  inflame  his  inspiration?  Do  you  not  go 
from  me  already,  with  twice  the  power  of  for 
merly?  Is  not  life  for  us  raised  every  day  from 
the  tomb?  And  why  should  we  who  have  found 
this  miracle  possible  to  us,  deny  it  to  ourselves? 
What  is  there  but  love  that  matters  anything  ? " 

Still  he  sat  rigid,  silent,  the  tumult  inside  his 
heart  keeping  him  externally  calm. 

"  Love  is  a  venial  sin,"  she  added  softly. 

It  is  the  woman  who  is  dare-devil  in  love,  al 
ways.  The  man  is  bound  to  remember  his  stand 
ing  among  men.  He  shrinks  from  the  world's  cen 
sure,  clings  to  his  cover,  shams,  and  is  secretive 
long  after  she  has  escaped,  as  a  glad  and  lawless 
pirate,  on  the  high  seas  that  are  so  surely  to  wreck 
her,  and  set  her  adrift  as  a  vagrant  uncharted 
derelict.  Women  are  considered  better  than  men 
but  in  matters  of  the  emotions,  men  are,  if  not  bet 
ter,  more  far-seeing  than  women.  Call  it  prudence 
or  principle  as  it  happens.  Trent  sitting  shielded 
from  the  light  in  the  angle  of  the  chimney  corner 
where  she  could  not  see  his  face  clearly,  knew  this 
and  clung  to  it  blindly,  although  aware  that  he  had 
allowed  himself  to  be  carried  over  the  impalpable 
line  that  committed  him  to  her  by  the  standard  of 
her  world.  "  Don't  you  think  we  had  better  put 
it  back  ?  "  he  repeated.  Plainly  there  was  no  ques 
tion  in  his  own  mind.  Already  his  course  was  de 
cided  and  his  will  strong  enough  to  hold  him  to  it. 


330  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

"  But  certainly,  if  you  wish,"  she  assured  him 
quickly,  with  such  contempt  in  her  manner  it  made 
him  shrivel. 

"  You  despise  me  ?  "  He  looked  straight  at  her 
now.  She  saw  the  shrinking  in  his  eyes,  that  was 
not  cowardice  but  pain  and  confusion  of  suffering. 
For  a  moment  she  pitied  him.  for  his  helpless 
ness. 

"  The  mistake  is  mine,"  she  said  gracefully,  in 
clining  her  head  as  before  a  deserved  correction. 
"  I  believed  you  a  man  —  I  find  you  an  idealist 
or  a  Saint." 

He  arose  to  take  his  leave  as  if  under  con 
demnation. 

"  I  regret  to  have  disappointed  you,"  he  said 
with  touching  dignity.  She  put  out  her  hand. 
He  took  it.  Her  mouth  softened.  He  did  not 
heed  its  suggestion.  It  was  not  until  he  was  ac 
tually  gone  that  she  fully  realised  the  humiliation 
to  which  he  had  subjected  her.  She  knew  herself 
unequal  to  sustaining  the  role  he  had  created  for 
her.  To  be  the  mystic  ideal,  the  intangible  spirit 
of  his  life,  appealed  to  her  no  more  than  the  wife  of 
an  absentee  lord,  like  her  own  wedded  husband. 
This  was  the  end  then.  It  was  all  over,  finished, 
thrown  aside. 

Grandee  fretted  next  day  over  missing  his  chess, 
but  Trent  did  not  appear. 

Stephanie,  with  shaking  hands,  tore  open  a  note 


TWO  BANKS  OF  A  RIVER  331 

from  him  by  the  afternoon  delivery,  but  it  was  only 
a  sonnet,  paradoxical  as  ever. 


"Since  there's  no  help,  come  let  us  kiss  and  part  — 

Nay,  I  have  done,  you  get  no  more  of  me; 

And  I  ant  glad,  yea,  glad  with  all  my  heart, 

That  thus  so  cleanly  I  myself  can  free. 

Shake  hands  forever,  cancel  all  our  vows, 

And  when  we  meet  at  any  time  again, 

Be  it  not  seen  in  either  of  our  brows 

That  we  one  jot  of  former  love  retain. 

Now  at  the  last  gasp  of  Love's  latest  breath, 

When,  his  pulse  failing,  Passion  speechless  lies, 

When  Faith  is  kneeling  by  his  bed  of  death, 

And  Innocence  is  closing  up  his  eyes, 

—  Now  if  thou  would'st,  when  all  have  given  him  over, 

From  death  to  life  thou  might'st  him  yet  recover." 

For  some  strange,  inexplicable  reason  the  sight 
of  his  odd  handwriting  renewed  all  that  had  sunk 
to  ashes  within  her.  He  was  temporising.  And 
if  a  man  will  temporise  with  temptation,  who  bet 
ter  than  a  woman  knows  what  it  means  or  to  what 
it  leads?  Perhaps  it  was  not  all  over.  Perhaps 
he  too  had  been  unable  to  refuse  himself  the  pos 
sibility  of  reprieve.  All  her  courage  and  confi 
dence  came  back  to  her.  It  was  with  the  recov 
ered  spirit  of  comedy  he  loved,  that  she  wrote  her 
first  line  to  him  since  his  return: 

"Ultimatum  received.    Daphne  running." 


332  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

then  ordered  the  car,  and  was  driven  to  Westerly 
to  telegraph  it  back  to  him.  Trent  received  the 
despatch  at  dinner  but  did  not  open  it  until  after 
midnight ;  omitting  mention  of  it  to  the  denizens 
of  the  Squirrel's  Nest,  who  were  celebrating  their 
near  departure  by  a  bachelor  frolic. 

And  that  same  night  Grandee  wrote  to  Raleigh 
Payne  at  some  length,  filling  his  letter  with  many 
details  of  interest  to  them  both  in  a  political  sense, 
and  adding  again  in  postscript,  enigmatic  but  en 
tirely  lucid  to  his  astute  nephew: 


"  Under  Goluchowski  Austria  slept  her  time  away,  un 
der  Aerenthal  she  seems  to  dream  it  away." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE    WISDOM    OF    A    DREAM 

GRANDEE  was  giving  a  dinner  in  the  su 
perlative  degree.  The  best  lace,  the 
heavily  embroidered  R  on  the  linen,  the 
heavily  crested  gilded  glass,  the  gold  enamel 
spoons  and  the  reckless  profusion  of  red  roses  all 
proved  it.  It  was  in  honour  of  Christine,  about 
to  leave  them  for  town,  and  Newbold  and  Rem- 
mington  had  been  persuaded  to  stop  over  and  share 
this  last  reminiscence  of  the  summer  with  the  first 
snowflakes  in  the  air,  which  for  a  brief  silvery  hour 
gave  the  world  the  effect  of  a  "  bal  poudre." 

Stephanie  installed  as  hostess  at  one  end  of  the 
table,  glittered  in  a  wondrous  gown  from  Vienna, 
cut  more  decollete  than  any  she  had  ever  worn  for 
the  previous  simple  grandeurs  of  Sky  High.  Trent, 
seated  as  far  from  her  as  the  table  permitted,  heard 
her  over  and  under  the  rest,  though  her  voice  was 
low,  for  her  gay  little  heartless  laugh  ran  along 
with  her  mood,  and  he  found  it  quite  exciting  as  a 
social  game,  to  pretend  to  know  what  the  girl  next 
him  was  saying,  and  yet  not  to  lose  what  Newbold 
was  saying  to  Mrs.  Payne  to  amuse  her,  or  what 
she  in  turn,  was  saying  or  doing  to  make  the  stran- 

333 


334  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

ger  on  her  right,  a  guest  of  one  of  the  cottagers, 
stare  at  her  with  such  open  admiration. 

He  had  branded  the  latter  as  no  thorough-bred 
by  the  third  course,  for  the  way  he  was  ignoring 
the  girl  beside  him,  and  the  disgusting  obtrusive- 
ness  of  his  flirtatious  intent.  Newbold  was  too 
clever  to  give  him  the  least  advantage  though,  there 
was  consolation  in  that  certainty,  and  he  inwardly 
cheered  his  friend  on  to  be  as  brilliant  as  lay  in 
his  utmost  power,  and  ward  off  the  too  appreciative 
stare,  with  which  the  other  man  was  covering  the 
woman  desecrated  by  his  enviable  eyes.  He  came 
to  himself  to  hear  the  girl  beside  him  saying: 

"  Yes,  she  wanted  me  to  help  her  with  her  girl's 
friendly.  She  opens  it  with  prayer  before  the  toe 
dancing.  But  I  said  the  girls  of  the  lower  class 
had  so  much  better  time  than  the  girls  in  society, 
I  did  not  see  the  use.  I  am  sure  they  have  three 
or  four  men  to  play  off  against  each  other,  and 
we  are  lucky  to  get  one  for  the  week  end !  " 

"  Oh,  decidedly,  a  man's  friendly  would  be  more 
in  your  line !  "  Trent  inserted,  straining  his  will 
not  to  glance  down  the  table  for  several  seconds. 

"  I  did  try  to  help  in  the  rescue  mission  but  that 
has  blown  up,  you  know  ?  "  she  volunteered. 

"  Why,  I  thought  that  was  doing  splendidly, 
what  happened  to  it?"  he  asked  as  if  it  was  right 
in  his  line  of  interest. 

"  Has  nobody  told  you  ?    Why  the  two  women  at 


THE  WISDOM  OF  A  DREAM         335 

the  head  of  it  rescued  each  other's  husbands !  One 
drank  and  the  other  flirted  abominably, —  and  now 
they  do  not  speak !  " 

"  And  yet  you  women  want  the  ballot ! "  he 
threw  in,  to  keep  her  talking  so  he  could  eaves 
drop  satisfactorily. 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  a  suffragette.  I  am  an  Anti- 
Anti,"  she  said.  "  That  is  really  the  only  position 
for  a  lady,  don't  you  think  so,  Mr.  Trent?  What 
do  you  think  about  it  ?  " 

"  Me  ?  I  believe  in  equal  suffering  for  men  and 
women,"  he  assured  her,  allowing  himself  a  quick 
glance  toward  Stephanie,  beyond  her. 

"  That  would  be  the  millennium,  Trent,"  said 
Grandee,  laughing.  "  I  wish  we  might  live  to 
see  it." 

All  but  the  trio  at  the  other  end  of  the  table 
gradually  joined  in  the  discussion:  Trent  arguing 
amiably  on  both  sides,  or  wherever  the  skirmish 
seemed  to  need  re-enforcement,  after  his  usual  con 
versational  irrelevance.  Having  started  them  all 
he  was  once  more  at  liberty  to  realise  without 
looking,  that  Stephanie  had  never  been  so  at 
tractive. 

Grandee  was  talking  to  Christine  of  the  local  at 
tempts  at  reform  in  their  rural  midst.  "  Socialism 
does  very  well  in  national  administration,  properly 
organised,"  he  was  saying,  "  but  these  women  here 
belter  let  it  alone.  It  is  just  a  form  of  egoism 


336  THE  SIN  OF  'ANGELS 

with  them.  People  like  our  rival  rescuers  here, 
take  it  up  because  they  are  idle  and  happy,  and 
there  is  another  sort  of  women  who  take  it  up  be 
cause  they  are  idle  and  miserable.  The  latter  suc 
ceed  better  on  the  whole,  because  they  help  them 
selves  if  nobody  else." 

The  girl  on  Trent's  right  acted  bored. 

"  It  is  several  years  since  we  met, — "  she  sug 
gested.  "  It  is  odd  you  never  married !  You 
never  did,  did  you  ?  " 

"  Not  to  my  knowledge,"  Trent  assured  her. 
"  Did  you  ?  "  She  shook  her  head  negatively. 

"  Mrs.  Payne  is  not  wearing  her  famous  crucifix 
to-night,  is  she  ?  "  was  her  next  remark,  made  with 
feminine  irrelevance ;  intending  Trent  to  notice  her 
own  jewelled  chain  of  rare  Florentine  workman 
ship.  At  the  word  crucifix,  Christine  turned  to 
Grandee. 

"  Have  you  any  idea  where  I  could  get  a  cross 
something  like  that  one  of  Stephanie's?  "  she  asked. 
"  I  want  one  for  a  friend  and  I  have  hunted 
through  all  the  antique  shops  I  know,  in  vain.  One 
old  collector,  after  showing  me  everything  else  un 
der  the  sun,  confessed  that  people  now-a-days  like 
crescent  and  horse-shoe  designs  better.  He  added 
that  there  was  no  demand  for  crosses." 

"  I  am  afraid  there  never  has  been,"  said 
Grandee  soberly,  thinking  of  Stephanie  and  glanc 
ing  at  Trent. 


THE  WISDOM  OP  A  DREAM        337 

"  Oh,  well,  while  we  live  let  us  laugh ! "  he  re 
sponded,  gaily  — 

"  Or  peradventure  we  may  weep !  "  Grandee  con 
cluded.  Trent's  left-hand  neighbour  now  pro 
jected  himself  into  the  foreground  in  turn.  "  Mrs. 
Payne  is  really  looking  rather  well  to-night,"  she 
commented.  "  Only  she  ought  not  to  wear  black. 
That  is  a  mistake.  It  adds  to  her  age  so!  Don't 
you  agree  with  me,  Mr.  Trent?  Black  is  for  the 
very  young  or  actual  old.  It  should  be  avoided  by 
women  who  are  neither  one  or  the  other  pro 
nouncedly." 

"  It  is  said  to  be  ambiguous,"  he  returned,  and 
looked  past  her,  toward  the  Mrs.  Payne  of  her  dis 
section. 

She  who  talked  little  with  him,  was  now  all  bad 
inage  and  raillery, —  daring  from  time  to  time  a 
"  mot "  rather  out  of  the  local  genre ;  referring 
with  a  gesture  to  illustrations  in  French  literature, 
apparently  familiar  to  those  beside  her  beyond  need 
of  amplification.  He  had  never  seen  her  use  her 
hands  with  so  foreign  a  freedom.  They  spoke  in 
a  language  of  their  own,  compelling  constant  at 
tention.  This  was  her  element.  He  admitted  it. 
How  colourless  their  hours  of  reading  together, 
and  the  sedate  guise  of  friendship  at  first,  must 
have  been  to  such  a  woman!  How  she  must  de 
spise  him,  when  after  coming  to  his  senses  and 
telling  her  he  loved  her,  he  had  walked  away  from 


338  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

the  joy  she  offered  him  so  unreservedly,  with  such 
touching  confidence  in  him.  Was  he  so  immacu 
late  that  he  must  needs  refuse  her,  in  the  mis 
shapen  loneliness  of  her  life,  any  solace  his  love 
could  afford  her,  without  counting  any  cost  to 
himself?  If  he  had  meant  to  fail  her,  why  in 
heaven's  name  had  he  made  love  to  her?  And  how 
superbly  she  had  taken  it;  —  however  she  must 
have  caricatured  him  in  her  own  thought.  The 
champagne  he  was  drinking  helped  his  riot  of  un 
reason  finely.  Away  with  empty  morality!  Was 
there  ever  another  such  selfish  fool?  And  so  on, 
ignorant  that  rank  jealousy  was  at  work  within 
him,  not  gentle  charity  or  just  self-examination. 
He  forgot  and  looked  once  deliberately  at  her. 
She  returned  his  glance  over  her  glass  for  a  long 
instant  and  the  sensation  went  completely  through 
him,  hot  and  cold.  He  felt  it  to  his  finger  tips. 
Of  course  she  scorned  him  for  a  chilly,  calculating 
prig.  What  had  she  wanted  to  do  with  him?  Or 
have  him  do  with  her?  But  if  he  had  acted  in 
noble  accord  with  his  conscience,  what  man  or 
priest  would  not  have  lost  respect  for  a  man  who 
could  refuse  the  gift  such  a  woman  offered  him? 
He  dared  not  look  again  all  through  the  remainder 
of  the  dinner.  She  was  branded  already  on  his 
senses.  Her  throat,  her  curving  shoulder  thrown 
a  little  forward  enhancing  the  soft  undulation  of 
her  neck,  and  the  delicacy  of  her  bare  arms  in  their 


THE  WISDOM  OF  A  DREAM        339 

soft  whiteness  against  the  black  gown,  with  a  great 
red  rose  in  her  corsage,  that  would  have  been  banal 
in  any  less  exquisitely  frail  creature  than  she,  but 
seemed  on  her  the  flaring  flower  of  her  own  heart. 

"  See !  I  am  Yusef's  flower !    The  red  rose  cried, 
And  wide  and  warm  her  sanguine  bodice  flings" 

ran  pitilessly  through  his  memory,  again  and  again. 

He  saw  her  hand  stray  to  it  several  times,  won 
dered  if  she  could  forget, —  wondered  if  her  heart 
felt  no  thorn, —  knew  that  it  did,  and  was  glad! 

When  he  listened  again  to  the  general  conversa 
tion  some  one  was  talking  of  an  absent  notoriety, 
a  playwright  and  mutual  friend  of  all  it  appeared. 

"  I  met  him  abroad  in  July,"  a  Boston  man  was 
saying, —  a  man  of  the  gossipy  type,  always  look 
ing  up  people  and  rehearsing  their  recent  fortunes, 
a  sort  of  animated  "  Who  is  Who." 

"  He  married  Mary  Swain,  the  widow  of  Percy 
Blythe,  did  he  not?"  asked  the  girl  next  Trent. 

"  Yes,  it  was  an  ill-omened  marriage  from  the 
start,"  some  one  else  agreed  quickly. 

"  Why  ?  "  inserted  Trent,  for  the  sake  of  saying 
something  to  show  that  he  was  in  the  circle. 

"  Because  she  was  older  than  he.  That  never 
works  out,"  replied  the  Gossip,  and  then  followed 
lists  of  unhappy  Jacks  and  Jims  and  Percys  who 
had  tried  it, —  and  supported  his  theory. 


340  THE  SIN  OF  'ANGELS 

Suddenly  Trent  felt  the  inevitable  settling  down 
over  him  like  an  imagination  of  the  hangman's 
cap.  She  was  older  than  he  in  the  experience  that 
ages  a  woman  most.  She  was  dependent  upon  lux 
ury,  such  as  none  but  the  rich  and  successful  man 
could  give  her.  Even  counting  out  his  own  pre 
disposition  toward  the  scholar's  life  or  the  priest 
hood,  her  whim  for  him  was  nothing  more  than 
the  caprice  of  a  woman  of  society,  in  a  moment  of 
despair  over  losing  temporarily  the  higher  stakes 
in  the  glittering  game  of  life. 

"  I  do  hope  we  are  going  to  hear  Mrs.  Payne 
sing  to-night.  Have  you  heard  her  ?  "  asked  the 
girl,  again  interrupting  him.  "  Are  you  musical, 
Mr.  Trent?  What  is  your  instrument?" 

"  I  play  the  golden  lyre,"  he  told  her  unblush- 
ingly. 

"All  the  time?" 

"  No,  because  then  it  would  cease  to  be  that  in 
strument  and  become  truth.  And  life  is  so  monot 
onous  when  every  one  goes  about  repeating  the 
same  things  just  as  they  are!  It  is  mental  pho 
tography,  not  art, —  mere  bleak  repetition,  hearsay 
still-born,  like  reading  the  newspaper  aloud.  The 
joy  of  lying  conies  from  the  common  habit  of 
truth." 

As  they  left  the  table  for  the  smoking  room,  he 
caught  fragments  of  an  unfinished  discussion  from 
the  absorbed  trio  at  the  head  of  the  table. 


THE  WISDOM  OF  A  DREAM        341 

"  If  retribution  came  now,  not  hereafter,  one 
might  feel  differently  " —  the  stranger  said,  bal 
ancing  the  point,  and  Newbold  finished  it  abruptly, 
saying  as  he  drew  back  Stephanie's  chair,  "  Oh, 
hell  is  the  other  woman !  " 

"  Is  it  not  possible  that  it  can  be  the  other  man  ?  " 
the  stranger  persisted. 

"  Myself,  I  do  not  know.  I  never  love  but  one 
man,"  Stephanie  said  guardedly. 

"  At  a  time  ?  "  Newbold  queried.  It  was  hard, 
poor  Trent  swore  to  himself,  to  be  forced  to  dive 
under  the  chair  of  that  girl  next  him,  at  that  very 
moment,  in  search  of  a  missing  glove,  when  he 
wanted  to  note  Stephanie's  expression.  But  man's 
lot  is  often  doomed  to  just  such  tedious  knight- 
errantry,  unsupported  by  steed  or  lance. 

He  kept  away  from  his  hostess  the  rest  of  the 
evening,  devoting  himself  ostentatiously  to  Chris 
tine's  guests,  and  saying  good-night  with  formal 
brevity  in  Newbold's  wake.  There  was  an  ensu 
ing  complication  of  motors  and  carriages  that  car 
ried  them  all  together  out  to  the  porte  cochere,  but 
somehow  Trent  was  left  alone  to  drift  back  for  his 
coat.  Newbold  had  gone  down  with  Christine's 
party  to  see  them  safely  in.  Remmington  had 
walked  on,  supposing  him  arranged  for  in  another 
car.  He  saw  Grandee  kiss  Stephanie's  hand  with 
impressive  appreciation  and  start  up  the  wide  stair 
way.  There  was  no  light  in  the  library  where  she 


342  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

stood,  but  that  from  the  hall,  and  the  fire  on  the 
hearth. 

He  saw  her  throw  herself  down  in  her  usual 
chair  with  the  familiar  grace  he  loved.  Quietly, 
without  really  knowing  what  he  was  about  to  do, 
he  came  to  her,  and  leaning  over  the  back  of  her 
chair,  covered  her  hand  with  his  own  and  kissed 
her  like  flame  upon  her  mouth.  He  might  hold 
out  against  her  in  absence  but  her  presence  cap 
tivated  him  against  his  vrill. 

Then  bending  lower,  he  kissed  the  red  rose  she 
wore. 

"  Now  I  have  broken  every  vow  I  made,"  he 
said  firmly.  "  You  can  do  about  as  you  like  with 
me.  Let  us  talk !  " 

He  dropped  the  cushions  from  the  divan  down 
beside  her  and  seated  himself  at  her  feet,  her  hand 
still  in  his.  A  tense  pause  ensued,  then  he  slipped 
one  arm  lightly  about  her.  They  sat  so,  while  the 
fire  absorbed  their  gaze  in  utter  silence.  Stephanie 
first  gave  a  long  sigh  of  quivering  content. 

"  You  are  the  music  of  silence,"  she  said  softly 
as  if  to  herself. 

Another  long  interlude  unbroken  save  by  the 
purring  of  the  fire,  as  an  adventurous  flame  reached 
to  the  heart  of  the  great  log  and  flared  up  ecstat 
ically. 

"  Don't  you  hope  heaven  is  like  this  ?  "  he  asked, 
as  if  merely  continuing  his  own  fantasy  aloud. 


•THE  WISDOM  OF  A  DREAM        343 

"  Why  should  one  doubt  it  ?  "  she  ventured,  her 
lips  so  close  to  his  she  could  scarcely  frame  the 
words.  She  bent  over  him  murmuring  her  in 
satiable  question,  "  Are  you  mine,  Cheri  ?  Are  you 
really  'mine?  " 

"  Yours !  "  he  declared  solemnly.  But  with  the 
quick  reactionary  restraint  she  had  seen  before  and 
dreaded,  he  drew  back  from  the  embrace  that  had 
all  but  enfolded  them  and  closed  his  eyes.  Was 
there  something  lacking  in  her  charm  for  him? 
Had  he  perhaps  a  loftier  conception  of  rapture  pos 
sible  to  himself  than  any,  lower  than  the  supernat 
ural,  could  ever  afford? 

"  Why  ?  "  she  cried,  apprehensive  of  some  mys 
terious  change  in  him  toward  her. 

"  I  am  afraid  of  loving  you  too  much." 

"  But  of  you  I  shall  not  demand  anything.  I 
am  yours  to  do  with  as  you  will, —  and  after, — 
nothing.  Absolutely  nothing !  "  It  was  a  simple 
statement  of  fact,  no  protestation.  He  knew  it. 
Stephanie  sat  wondering.  "  Truly  you  are  a  man," 
she  said  reflectively.  "  I  give  you  passion  and  you 
blanch  away  from  it.  I  give  you  indifference,  as 
to-night  at  dinner,  and  you  retaliate  with  this. 
Yours  is  the  most  sensuous  soul  and  mystic  sense 
conceivable.  You  must  at  times,  I  am  sure,  be 
confused  to  decide  if  you  are  reptile  or  angel." 

"  To-night  I  must  be  an  angel,  for  this  is 
heaven,"  he  reminded  her.  "  And  I  am  sure  God 


344  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

must  be  pleased  with  us  now,  I  am  so  content." 

"  You  are  very  strange,  Gaston.  What  has 
changed  you?  You  thought  not  so  long  ago  love 
was  a  sin  to  be  resisted,  and  not  sufficiently  charm 
ing  to  hazard  the  possible  punishment.  And 
now?" 

"  I  was  sure  it  was  a  sin  at  first.  I  swore  it 
should  stop,  and  then  I  was  afraid  it  had.  And 
all  the  while  I  was  away,  I  nearly  died  of  loneli 
ness  without  you,  and  when  I  was  on  my  way  to 
Canada  to  camp  with  some  men  and  forget  you,  I 
saw  you  waiting  for  me,  through  that  infinitely 
blessed  car  window,  and  went  after  you  without  so 
much  as  my  coat,  left  hanging  on  its  peg.  And 
you  never  noticed  that  men  do  not  usually  travel 
with  one  glove  and  nothing  in  the  way  of  luggage, 
not  even  an  umbrella!  And  now  I  am  unhappy 
because  I  know  such  happiness  cannot  last." 

"  And  now  you  think  also  that  it  is  no  longer 
wrong?  " 

"  And  now  I  do  not  care  if  it  is !  " 

"  How  strange  — "  she  began. 

"  It  was  strange, —  it  is  not  any  more.  It  is 
simply  irresistible." 

She  wanted  to  accept  it  as  final,  but  this  was  to 
night,  and  Stephanie  knew  that  to-morrow  would 
not  be  the  same.  She  comprehended  his  nature  too 
well  to  count  on  continuity  of  passion.  And  even 
now,  having  soared  to  his  zenith,  he  dove  away 


THE  WISDOM  OF  A  DREAM         345 

from  her  and  took  refuge  in  the  flippant  common 
place. 

She  listened  as  he  criticised  Grandee's  taste  in 
placing  a  random  stranger  next  her  at  table  that 
evening.  "  He  is  not  a  gentleman,  of  course/' 
Trent  haughtily  announced,  "  for  he  asked  who 
you  were,  yesterday  in  the  village.  No  gentleman 
would  do  that.  Newbold  and  I  never  did.  We 
only  told  Christine  and  Jim  that  we  did  not  mind 
coming  to  tea  with  them  some  afternoon  when  you 
were  there." 

"  Oh,  you  precious  ridiculous !  But  how  did  you 
know  who  sat  by  me,  or  what  he  was  like?  You 
devoted  yourself  to  Christine's  friend  so  exclu 
sively — "  she  inferred  her  own  consequent  ex 
clusion  by  a  shrug. 

"  Did  I  ?     I  am  glad.     I  had  not  noticed  it." 

"  And  that  Mallory  woman  on  your  left  was 
very  handsome." 

"  And  like  a  grand  piano. —  shut, —  to  talk  to. 
Your  gown  was  at  fault  too.  I  found  it — " 

"All  that  it  should  be?"  she  asked  anxiously. 

"  More !  But  you  were  quite  shameless  in  the 
way  you  effaced  all  the  others.  I  honestly  pitied 
them." 

"  Is  it  possible  you  saw  it  ?  You  never  for  but 
one  instant  turned  your  eyes  in  my  direction." 

"  I  was  afraid,"  he  admitted  gravely.  "  I  am 
always  afraid  of  Newbold's  eyes.  They  see  when 


346  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

one  least  expects  them  to.  Grandee  has  very 
shrewd  eyes  too,  sometimes.  And  you  are  a  very- 
terrifying  person  yourself  in  society.  I  feel 
when  I  look  at  you,  it  cannot  have  been  true: 
it  never  was  true;  that  I  am  just  one  of  'les 
autres.' " 

"  Grandee  trusts  me  entirely,"  she  said  hur 
riedly,  slurring  over  his  compunction.  But  it  did 
not  ring  true.  They  both  understood  the  false 
ness  of  their  position  and  suffered  from  it,  not 
only  for  each  other,  but  for  the  personal  loss  of 
self-esteem  it  involved. 

It  was  characteristic  of  Lawrence  Trent  that  he 
could  not  stay  pitched  in  one  key.  Tragedy  was 
not  his  taste,  however  it  might  prove  to  be  his 
fate.  Tense  as  they  both  were  to-night,  he  was 
obliged  to  follow  the  law  of  his  nature  and  slide 
down  a  semi-tone,  a  whole  third,  an  octave  even, 
by  his  trifling,  to  avert  disaster.  He  could  not 
bear  the  sustained  realisation  of  the  pass  to  which 
they  had  inadvertently  come. 

"You  did  amuse  yourself,  you  will  not  deny?" 
he  insisted. 

"Can  it  be  possible  that  you  were  jealous?" 
She  was  all  dubious  instantly. 

"  Newbold  is  very  attractive  and,  as  I  have  told 
you  before,  every  woman  likes  a  new  victim." 

"  He  is  brilliant, —  but  not  contagious,"  she  dis 
criminated. 


THE  WISDOM  OF  A  DREAM         347 

"  I  did  not  mind.  I  rather  enjoyed  it.  It  is 
more  fun  not  to  be  certain  of  anything." 

Stephanie  recoiled.     He  felt  it. 

"  You  say  it  is  fun, —  more  fun,"  she  remarked 
sharply.  "  I  have  been  false  to  a  man  who  loves 
me,  for  you.  I  cannot  conceive  of  pretending  to 
give  a  moment's  consideration  to  another  man.  It 
is  degrading.  To  so  much  as  glance  with  coquetry 
at  another  man  is  to  declass  oneself;  it  is  vulgar, 
plebeian.  I  shall  never  stoop  to  subterfuge  or  art 
with  you.  It  is  not  great  or  splendid.  You  have 
it  always  in  your  power  to  humiliate  me,  by  recall 
ing  that  I  have  been  at  heart  unfaithful  to  Raleigh 
Payne,  but  you  should  be  the  last  man  in  all  the 
world  to  inflict  such  disrespect  upon  my  sacred 
misfortune  in  loving  you !  " 

It  was  an  unexpected  depth  in  her,  disconcerting 
perhaps,  but  promising  much  for  the  clarity  of  her 
affection,  and  boding  ill  for  the  complexity  of  the 
relation  he  had  involved  them  in.  Hidden,  holy, 
hopeless  as  it  was  to  him,  he  could  not  have  defined, 
even  in  her  arms,  if  he  really  would  have  wished 
it  otherwise.  It  so  suited  his  vague  need  of  lov 
ing  and  being  loved,  without  personal  responsibil 
ity,  or  the  cross  of  conflicting  mutual  obligations 
of  duty-imposing  love  under  normal  and  regular 
conditions. 

A  clock  struck  one. 

"  It  is  nothing  to  you !     You  have  nothing  what- 


348  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

ever  to  say  about  it !  "  Trent  contradicted  whim 
sically.  "  But  I  have  got  to  go  home  sometime, — 
I  suppose."  He  unfastened  the  red  rose  from  her 
corsage  and  slipped  it  safely  beneath  his  coat. 
His  last  kiss  was  sacramental, —  an  experience  of 
infinity  in  which  all  sense  of  self  went  down. 

She  lay  quiescent  in  her  deep  chair  before  the 
fire,  after  he  had  gone,  unwilling  to  break  the  en 
chantment  of  his  spell. 

She  wondered  later,  what  lie  he  would  offer 
Newbold  in  extenuation  of  the  hour.  She  fell 
asleep  there  at  last,  and  dreamed.  The  dream  shut 
her  in  a  room,  like  one  she  had  occupied  in  Heidel- 
burg,  where  moon-beams  sifted  through  chestnut 
trees  in  bloom  and  made  feathery  shadows  tremb 
ling  on  the  wall.  The  mountains  rose  sharply  out 
side  a  window  by  which  some  one  stood.  She 
heard  a  door  drawn  softly  shut.  As  it  closed,  she 
turned,  but  perceived  it  to  be  Raleigh  who  stood 
beside  her, —  and  knew  it  to  be  Trent  who  had 
closed  the  doqr  and  stood  outside. 

She  waked  sickened,  with  a  physical  sense  of 
chill,  just  as  the  Centaur  freight  train  raced  wild 
down  the  steep  grade.  The  pang  that  smote  Her 
revealed  their  situation.  Her  heart  seemed  to 
stop.  The  dream  outraged  her  soul  and  body. 
She  wanted  to  pray.  The  future  leered  at  her 
from  the  darkness.  Even  the  echo  of  the  familiar 
train  had  vanished  into  the  unknown. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE    POSTMAN 

ON  the  desk  in  Stephanie's  own  room  lay 
the  usual  elaborate  writing  contrivances 
monogrammed  and  crested,  for  Raleigh 
was  fond  of  the  Payne  crest  and  liked  to  see  it 
reappear,  repeated  in  varying  form,  under  any  pre 
text.  It  gave  him  an  ancestral  feeling,  a  new  young 
dignity  to  offset  her  Austrian  background.  His 
own  picture,  in  a  heavy  silver  frame,  also  cor 
rectly  monogrammed  and  crested,  stood  appropri 
ately  in  the  midst;  surrounded  by  many  small  but 
significant  trophies  connected  with  their  courtship, 
which  he  liked  to  see  about  her.  It  was,  however, 
at  the  small  mahogany  table  in  her  dressing  room, 
by  the  window  overlooking  the  narrow  strip  of 
forest  and  the  edge  of  the  lawn,  that  she  spent  her 
long  solitary  afternoons  of  summer  and  the  bril 
liant  chill  autumn  mornings.  Here  were  Trent's 
careless  notes, —  mere  little  bundles  of  faggots  she 
told  him  his  writing  resembled ;  and  here  were  also 
the  books  Trent  brought  her  to  read  and  the  flow 
ers  he  cared  for.  That  was  all.  She  had  an 
aversion  to  any  tangible  proof  of  devotion,  because 
of  these  very  accumulated  gifts  of  Raleigh,  which 

349 


350  THE  SIN  OF  'ANGELS 

dragged  on  her  memory  like  manacles,  bidding  her 
mind  guard  what  her  heart  had  long  loosed. 

"  Give  me  only  that  which  cannot  last ! "  had 
been  her  entreaty  of  Trent.  "  Give  me,  if  you  will, 
a  flower,  a  thought,  a  tear, —  the  joy  I  do  not  see 
or  touch, —  that  I  shall  not  be  obliged  to  behold  it 
with  sharp  regret  at  some  future  time, —  recalling 
that  which  I  most  wish  to  put  far  from  me.  A 
gift,  Cheri,  so  soon  becomes  the  symbol  of  an  ex 
perience  that  is  dead.  And  one  cherishes  the  body 
of  the  dead  but  three  days,  however  beloved,  so 
why  then  preserve  the  dead  form  of  a  love  that 
has  vanished  ?  " 

But  to  her  the  room  was  full  of  Trent.  For 
here  were  her  conjectures,  her  fears,  her  brief 
memories;  clinging  like  incense  undisturbed  in 
some  holy  place.  He  had  never  been  here  of 
course,  but  he  seemed  to  Stephanie  never  to  have 
been  away.  And  here  she  always  found  him.  It 
was  a  northeast  room,  which  perhaps  accounted  for 
the  rather  pensive  romance  of  the  shadows  across 
the  summer  grass,  or  the  autumnal  feeling  that 
summer  had  turned  her  face  away,  which  came 
later  as  the  season  deepened  into  earlier  dusk.  All 
the  gates  of  summer  seemed  closed  behind  them 
now  and  locked  in  frost,  yet  no  letters  came  from 
the  North  Woods  and  every  day  sped  faster  than 
its  predecessor,  while  the  wasting  November 
prophesied  the  end  in  pitiless  terms  of  dun-colour. 


THE  POSTMAN  351 

Every  day  too,  Stephanie  and  Trent  might  have 
asked  with  the  divine  old  poet  — 

"What  did  we  do  i' faith,  before  we  loved?" 

so  absorbing  had  not  only  that  occupation,  but 
their  necessary  precaution  to  conceal  it  from  others, 
become.  He  must  have  known  that  she  was  his, 
to  take  or  refuse.  He  gave  her  his  love  in  his  own 
pent,  cruel,  silent  way,  most  often  against  his  will, 
but  he  would  never  promise  or  beseech.  It  was 
left  to  something  outside  themselves  to  determine 
their  destiny. 

A  perplexity  as  to  the  extent  a  lover  is  prepared 
to  support  his  protestations  is  the  most  absorbing 
preoccupation  a  woman  can  have.  And  if  he  does 
not  protest,  merely  assumes,  the  perplexity  is  dou 
bled.  Stephanie  followed  her  clew  till  it  began  to 
mislead  or  she  began  to  run  ahead  of  the  actual 
scent  of  fact, —  then  went  back,  to  avoid  the  misty 
turning  between  truth  and  her  desire  for  what 
should  be  truth,  to  again  find  herself  confronting 
one  result  at  one  minute,  and  its  exact  opposite  the 
next.  She  knew  her  own  sickening  predicament 
by  that  vivid  dream. 

"  If  I  am  tempted  to  let  Raleigh  come  back,  I 
shall  live  over  again  that  terrible  instant !  "  she  re 
minded  herself.  "  I  have  only  in  imagination  to 
feel  my  heart  stop,  as  it  did  when  that  door  was 


352  THE  SIN  OF  'ANGELS 

shut,  to  realise  all  the  future."  It  shocked  her  to 
recall  that  intimate  moment, —  even  in  a  dream. 
She  had  expected,  without  too  much  struggle,  that 
all  would  externally  remain  as  before.  It  would 
look  like  purple  and  feel  like  treason,  but  that  was 
one  of  the  world's  accepted  compromises.  Now 
it  became  revolting  physically  as  well  as  morally. 
She  cried  out  to  be  saved  from  such  catastrophe, 
but  the  prayers  of  "  the  Way  of  the  Cross  "  were 
for  those  who  approached  by  renunciation  of  their 
sinful  desires.  And  to  renounce  her  love  was  not 
in  Stephanie. 

Yet  how  was  she  to  pray?  How  could  she  beg 
of  the  implacable  God  to  make  her  lover  true, 
when  she  was  false? 

"  C'est  ridicule, —  ma  position!"  she  cried  in  her 
heart.  "  If  heaven  had  not  such  an  infinitely  nar 
row  conception  of  a  woman ! "  "  To  be  a  Ma 
donna  is  but  one  career,  justly !  "  "  And  surely  a 
woman  of  society  has  need  of  God,  more  than  some 
innocent  virgin  of  the  peasantry!  But  how  to 
pray?  To  pray  that  he  might  sleep  and  dream  of 
her?  What  rosary  held  a  petition  like  this?  To 
pray  that  he  might  come  without  fail,  to-morrow 
as  always?  Could  the  Almighty  Judge  turn  from 
his  divine  rehabilitation  of  fallen  mankind  and  re- 
introduction  to  fitness  for  eternal  glory,  long  enough 
to  send  Trent  to  her,  with  kisses  smouldering  on 
his  lips  and  the  light  of  passion  hid  so  deeply 


THE  POSTMAN  353 

down  behind  his  eyes?  No,  surely  not.  The  bon 
Dieu  must  be  too  occupied  sorting  his  goats  from 
his  sheep."  She  was  left  to  renounce  all  carnal 
joys  and  earthly  vanities  unassisted. 

It  was  just  here  that  Raleigh's  prohibition  of 
the  confessional  infected  her,  and  even  spread  be 
yond  her  to  the  demoralisation  of  Trent  himself. 
The  ambition  that  saw  in  her  relation  to  the  priest 
a  menace  to  a  phase  of  political  activity,  failed  to 
foresee  the  safeguard  against  the  insidious  lure  of 
love-in-loneliness.  Stephanie  reasoned  that  if  her 
religion  failed  her  now,  it  was  good  for  little.  If 
heaven  would  not  help  her  now,  for  what  use  was 
it  intended  ?  She  knew  Trent  prayed  for  her.  He 
was  so  good!  Found  such  peace  in  his  Mass, — 
looked  so  rapt  afterward!  His  prayers  surely 
must  surely  be  heard,  yet  for  what  did  he  pray? 

That  she  might  be  faithful  to  her  marriage  vows? 
Hateful! 

That  she  might  be  too  pure  to  love  out  of  the 
sacrament?  Odious! 

Once  he  had  said  on  leaving  her,  "  Now  one  long 
wicked  kiss ! "  And  with  all  her  small  strength 
she  had  held  him  back. 

"  Not  if  you  believe  it  is  wicked,"  she  had  in 
sisted.  "  I  want  to  be  holy  to  you, —  first  in  your 
prayers  as  in  your  passion."  She  wanted  more,  in 
reality,  she  wanted  to  be  his  peace  and  passion. 
She  was  jealous  of  his  goodness.  "  This  affair  of 


354  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

his  soul  with  heaven !  "  And  he  had  overpowered 
her,  of  course,  and  whispered  as  he  kissed  her, 
"  Oh,  you  are,  you  are  first !  I  do  not  care  how 
wrong  it  is !  I  am  all  past  that !  " 

They  were  at  sea,  poor  children,  equally. 

"  All  my  vows  broken !  "  she  heard  him  sigh ; 
and  again  when  she  asked  him  hesitatingly,  "  Do 
you  mind  if  I  care  so  much?"  he  had  replied,  as 
if  oppressed,  she  thought,  "  I  do  not  mind  any 
thing  now." 

But  she  was  forced  to  feel  it  a  desperate  accept 
ance  of  their  intimacy,  on  his  part,  rather  than  any 
elation  of  happiness  or  personal  triumph. 

Sometimes  he  reverted  to  his  original  pose,  say 
ing  quietly,  as  if  he  meant  it,  "  I  hate  you." 

"  I  detest  you,"  was  her  invariable  reply. 

To  which  he  would  always  retort,  "  I  abhor  you, 
—  because  I  adore  you !  " 

"  I  have  never  asked  you  the  only  question  that 
I  must  ask  soon,"  she  said  to  him  once,  and  he 
cried  impulsively: 

"  Leave  it  unasked !  I  hate  questions,"  as  if  he 
foresaw  a  change  impending  in  their  relation 
and  wished  to  ward  it  off  by  affecting  not  to 
see  it. 

"  I  must  ask  it " —  she  repeated  steadily. — 
"  Do  you  love  me  ?  "  She  felt  how  he  grew  tense, 
then  relaxed  as  if  from  the  joy  of  a  danger  threat 
ened  and  passed. 


THE  POSTMAN  355 

Were  they  the  frail  bands  of  indomitable  con 
science,  or  the  pale  hope  of  some  remote  eternal 
bliss  that  so  militated  against  her? 

They  were  not  happy  and  yet  they  could  never 
go  back  the  way  they  had  come,  even  if  it  had  oc 
curred  to  either  so  to  desire.  And  every  day  the 
mail  came  up  to  Sky  High,  bringing  a  quicker  ter 
ror  to  her  heart  for  their  diminishing  safety. 
Sometimes  the  impending  danger  made  her  trem 
ble  so  that  she  feared  detection  from  menial  eyes, 
and  took  a  glass  of  wine  before  she  ventured  to 
meet  what  might  be  lurking  in  the  postman's  hand. 
At  other  times  she  fell  upon  her  knees,  whispering 
wildly  to  the  unmoved  crucifix  above  her  head, 
"  Have  mercy !  Have  pity !  Not  to-day !  Not 
to-day !  Not  yet !  Give  me  courage !  But  not  to 
day  ! "  Or  merely  repeated  a  few  beads,  distracted 
and  unheeding;  an  unintelligent  form  of  signal 
for  help,  like  that  of  a  drowning  man  without 
proper  rockets  to  call  other  ships  to  his  succour 
before  he  sinks  for  the  last  time. 

Trent  took  more  wine  at  dinner  than  had  ever 
been  his  habit  before.  He  had  to.  It  dulled  the 
call  of  the  nerves  or  made  him  indifferent  toward 
inward  remonstrance.  To  Stephanie  he  was  an 
increasing  enigma.  She  perfectly  recognised  his 
being  bound  by  every  obligation  of  manly  honour 
to  make  no  least  demand  of  her.  Yet  —  if  he  only 
would!  She  had  the  woman's  appetite  for  self- 


356  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

sacrifice,  regretted  his  inadequate  tyranny,  doubted 
her  own  charm.  What  if  she  failed  to  arouse  a 
passion  sufficiently  enduring  and  inexorable?  She 
knew  there  were  lures  before  which  men  were 
weak.  And  did  men  who  really  lived  the  lives  of 
men,  ever  allow  honour  to  tie  their  hands  to  the 
exclusion  of  inclination?  She  was  a  woman  bred 
to  a  different  code.  The  fine  edge  of  the  blade  of 
an  American's  honour  with  women  was  out  of  her 
reckoning  by  no  fault  of  her  own.  She  had  yet 
to  learn  that  it  takes  more  power  to  swerve  an 
American  from  his  straight  and  narrow  path  of 
the  married  sanctities,  than  to  keep  him  in  it.  The 
reverse  may  hold  in  Europe,  but  here  the  line  of 
least  resistance  is  decency  and  the  respect  of 
women,  with  an  old-fashioned  awe  of  a  certain 
commandment  Moses  and  America  have  gone  into 
partnership  on,  in  spite  of  lax  divorce  and  the  mil 
lionaire  minority. 

If  Raleigh  came  before  Trent  further  committed 
himself,  and  if  the  supernatural  could  not  be  pre 
vailed  upon  to  assist  her,  where  was  she  to  find 
succour?  No  prayer  and  no  exit  came  to  her  trou 
bled  suggestion. 

She  clung,  for  her  single  hope,  to  the  only  hint 
of  her  definite  salvation  Trent  had  ever  cast  out. 
It  was  but  a  brief  exchange  of  sentences,  that 
might  have  been  idle  words  unsupported  by  any 
definite  resolution. 


THE  POSTMAN  357 

"  Raleigh  may  go  to  Panama,  indefinitely,"  she 
had  thrown  out,  meaning  separation. 

"  Let  him !  "  Trent  replied  savagely. 

"  But  you  will  not  let  me  go  with  him?  " 

"Never!" 

"  Do  you  care  more  than  you  did  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  see  how  that  would  be  possible." 

It  was  all  she  had  for  a  spar  in  possible  ship 
wreck,  and  she  was  not  so  infatuated  as  to  trust 
too  implicitly  to  its  endurance  under  stress  and 
storm.  Before  her  dream  she  had  tried  to  say  to 
herself  that  Raleigh  was  hers,  and  proud  of  hen; 
he  moved  on  the  stage  with  assurance,  never 
lacked  dignity  or  claimed  from  her  preposterous 
satisfactions:  that  her  own  tact  would  be  equal  to 
whatever  complication  arose.  He  and  she,  what 
ever  there  might  lie  concealed  between  them,  un 
derstood  each  other's  love  of  effect  and  the  stra 
tegic  position.  But  now,  since  her  dream,  the  re 
pulsion  of  the  flesh  made  him  impossible. 

Raleigh  had  bought  her,  bargained  for  her.  He 
did  not  love  her  for  love's  'sake.  She  had  never 
felt  more  than  an  attraction  of  the  flesh  toward 
him,  disgraceful  as  it  might  be.  And  yet  he  was 
her  husband  and  the  postman  would  come  some 
day, —  until  when  —  here  her  argument  broke 
down.  So  every  day  she  waited  and  dreaded,  and 
every  day  it  had  been  put  off  once  again,  and  she 
grasped  the  cup  of  reprieve  with  fingers  that  shook, 


358  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

her  spirits,  soaring.  There  was  never  comrade  so 
gay, —  until  the  ghastly  dread  took  hold  of  her 
again,  at  sight  of  the  grey-uniformed  Fate,  post 
ing  up  to  Sky  High  on  his  next  round;  impartially 
scattering  tragedy  and  comedy  from  his  un-classic 
motor-cycle,  all  unsuspicious  of  his  potential  im 
portance  to  the  peace  of  the  pretty  Mrs.  Payne  he 
admired  without  limitation. 

Trent,  meantime  kept  desperately  at  his  books, 
never  sparing  himself,  taking  her  quite  by  surprise 
one  morning  by  his  announcement  that  he  was  off 
to  town  for  a  few  days.  Conjecture  could  not  sup 
ply  his  motive,  and  his  reticence  was  cloaked  in 
that  appearance  of  frankness,  already  so  familiar 
to  her  in  his  evasive  moods. 

"  Must  you  go  now, —  just  now?"  she  said,  try 
ing  not  to  let  her  voice  sound  imploring. 

"  I  have  decisions  to  make,  people  to  see,  im 
portant  matters  to  arrange,"  he  explained  with  an 
inclusiveness  intentionally  misleading. 

Her  heart  took  fright  at  once.  After  all  he  was 
one  of  these  self-centred  Americans,  who  allowed 
neither  love  nor  inclination  to  cross  their  deathless 
determination  to  advance. 

"  We  have  so  few  days  left  — "  she  faltered. 

"  But  we  have  had  so  many !  "  he  exclaimed  hap 
pily. 

"  How  long  shall  you  be  gone  ?  " 

"  Not  more  than  ten  days." 


THE  POSTMAN  359 

"  Ten  days !  "  she  stammered, — "  ten  days  —  but 
I  shall  be  so  miserable  — " 

"  If  you  will  not  look  like  Durer's  Melancholy, 
I  will  make  it  two  or  three,"  he  offered,  enjoying 
her  confusion. 

"  Why  do  you  persecute  me  so  with  the  fear  that 
you  are  already  weary  ?  "  she  demanded,  her  small 
head  thrown  back,  her  hands  tragically  out-spread. 

"  Because  you  are  so  simple  in  spite  of  all  your 
subtlety." 

"We  are  all  simple  when  we  love.  But,  Cheri, 
I  am  not  like  other  women  in  one  respect,  I  care 
only  for  what  is  mine.  It  may  not  be  noble  but  it 
is,  alas!  also  true." 

"  That  is  a  singular  virtue.  Most  women  care 
for  nothing  until  they  have  lost  it,"  he  complied. 

"  Yes,  and  for  this  reason  it  is  not  necessary  for 
you  to  absent  yourself  and  be  lost  to  me,  to  make 
me  love  you.  I  shall  love  you  a  thousand  times 
more  if  you  will  not  go.  You  will  not?  You  will 
give  me  these  few  days  more?" 

"  Oh,  no,  I  am  going.  I  said  I  was,  and  I  haye 
written  other  people  so,"  he  asserted  quite  unde 
terred.  Instantly  she  was  all  dread  of  his  leaving 
her,  felt  the  premonition  of  the  hours  without  him, 
struggling  to  remain  calm  externally. 

"  You  will  send  me  a  little  word  to-morrow  ? " 
she  begged,  intent  on  forestalling  the  impending 
blank,  before  which  she  already  quailed. 


360  THE  SIN  OF  'ANGELS 

"  Impossible !  I  could  not  write  you  now,"  he 
said,  "  my  words  would  burn  through  the  paper 
and  set  the  mail  bag  on  fire !  " 

"  I  so  loved  your  notes  last  time  you  were  away ; 
but  especially  I  loved  your  telegram,"  she  derided 
fondly,  "  the  one  you  promised  to  send  on  arrival, 
and  did  not  remember  to  send  at  all." 

"  Promises  are  only  good  to  break,"  he  objected. 

"  If  all  the  world  so  regarded  them  — "  she  be 
gan— 

"  Put  me  in  a  class  all  by  myself,  in  that  respect, 
then,"  he  invited  her  unblushingly.  But  she 
sighed  quickly.  "  Alas !  then  I  am  obliged  to  place 
you  in  a  class  together  with  all  the  men  I  have  ever 
known  in  my  life.  I  had  hoped  you  were  unique. 
And  if  you  do  not  believe  in  truth,  in  what  do  you 
believe  supremely,  profoundly,  Gaston  ?  " 

Trent  resented  her  insight  and  appreciated  the 
implication  of  her  reproof,  but  he  kept  that  to  him 
self,  saying  with  a  sudden  bitterness  that  shocked 
her, — "  I  believe  in  the  love-neverlasting,  destroyer 
of  heaven  and  earth ! "  Then,  turning  his  head 
aside,  while  she  noted  the  rigidity  of  his  face  and 
its  unnatural  pallour,  he  muttered,  "  It  will  not 
last, —  it  cannot  last.  It  never  does,  and  each 
time  brings  the  end  closer."  She  tasted  the  chal 
lenge  to  fate  in  his  kiss  and  gloried  in  it,  but  her 
impotence  to  turn  him  from  his  proposed  journey 
to  town  was  like  a  hand  at  her  throat.  She  would 


THE  POSTMAN  361 

not  let  him  see  her  real  suffering  over  so  slight  a 
difference,  but  her  heart  went  white  within  her. 
He  noticed  her  loss  of  colour  and  irregular  breath 
ing,  and  coming  back  to  stand  beside  her,  laid  his 
arm  about  her  shoulders  fondly,  as  he  comforted 
her  by  saying,  "  Think  what  a  pleasure  it  will  be 
to  come  back !  " 

She  forced  herself  to  share  his  mood,  not  daring 
to  oppose  her  own  lest  it  annoy  him ;  arguing  only 
with  reluctant  eyes.  They  both  felt  vaguely  that 
there  were  things  which  probably  ought  to  be  said, 
but  they  did  not  want  to  say  them ;  though  by  this 
very  assuming  of  their  non-existence  they  realised 
and  evaded  the  possibility  of  raising  an  issue. 
Such  a  mutual  ignoring  became  a  bond  of  avoid 
ance,  uniting  them  in  a  common  effort.  Panoplied 
in  their  now  recognition  of  the  situation  as  an  open 
fact  between  them,  they  could  sit  now  talking  of 
everything  and  anything  else,  while  the  reckless 
ghosts  of  former  hours  revelled,  mocking  at  them 
from  each  other's  arms,  filling  the  room  with  phan 
tom  echoes  of  sighs  and  love-words,  pitiless,  tor 
menting,  distracting  by  comparison  with  the  un 
demonstrative  present. 

Their  actual  parting  was  tense,  a  silent,  white 
Mass,  partaken  side  by  side.  Mystics,  dreamers, 
they  both  were;  Fate  might  well  laugh  at  their 
doubt  of  any  power  to  destroy  what  lay  between 
their  eyes  and  deeper  than  touch.  Their  individ- 


362  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

uality  complicated  an  otherwise  simple  outcome,  by 
their  obstinacy  in  blessing  God  for  each  other. 
Trent,  in  his  first  grim  struggle  with  the  element 
that  has  worsted  saint  and  hero  alike,  was  con 
strained  to  reconcile  Deity  with  the  sanction  of  his 
love,  which  Stephanie  took  for  granted.  To  her 
the  "  bon  Dieu  "  was  marvellously  making  repara 
tion  for  all  that  had  hitherto  been  lacking  in  her 
life.  The  strength  to  resist  weakened  with  every 
fresh  persuasion  in  each  other's  favour.  There 
had  come  to  be  for  both  an  inexpressible  dearness 
in  their  association,  which  set  each  secretly  won 
dering  if  in  any  constant  association  of  a  man  and 
woman  who  loved,  one  might  not  pretty  safely 
rely  upon  a  wide  margin  of  totally  inexplicable 
fascination,  after  all.  As  Trent  wandered  up  and 
down  the  dreary  platform  of  the  junction  station 
to-day,  he  wondered  why  it  had  seemed  so  at 
tractive  in  the  gathering  dusk  with  Stephanie.  He 
recalled  the  hat  she  wore,  her  eyes  that  set  him 
imagining,  and  her  tempestuous  lips  that  let  him 
know.  Where  was  that  giddy  spirit  of  joy  to 
day?  Then  and  Now,  that  oldest  of  all  tragi 
comedies  of  man,  was  being  again  enacted  in  all 
its  tiresome  sameness,  only  that  it  was  within  him, 
a  matter  of  his  own  individuality. 

In   the   writing   room   of  a   certain   down-town 
caravansary,  that  same  evening  in  New  York,   a 


THE  POSTMAN  363 

man  very  brown  as  to  complexion  and  well  devel 
oped  of  muscle  sat  writing  as  fast  as  his  pen  could 
fly.  The  capital  letters  were  large,  denoting  self- 
absorption,  and  the  rest  of  the  words  were  carried 
to  their  end  by  sheer  momentum.  To  one  accus 
tomed  to  his  hand,  what  he  wrote,  however  little 
it  might  look  like  it,  was  really  intended  for  — 

Darling  Stephanie: 

Feeling  like  a  fighting  cock.  Got  in  this  afternoon  and 
must  stay  here  over  to-morrow  for  a  business  conference 
of  importance.  Expect  me  at  Sky  High  in  a  few  days  at 
latest.  The  city  is  dull  enough  without  you.  Greetings  to 
Uncle  Randall, 

Your  aff.  husband, 

RALEIGH  PAYNE. 

This  done  he  gave  it  to  a  page  to  mail,  and 
hurried  off  to  dine  at  Christine's  and  go  to  the 
first  night  at  the  opera,  in  the  box  of  another  friend 
later.  And  upstairs  in  the  same  hotel,  it  happened, 
a  boy  sat  trying  to  write  a  letter  of  farewell,  try 
ing  to  bear  the  nameless  pain  that  enveloped  him 
like  some  deadly  mist  and  gathered  in  his  throat 
and  choked  him.  At  last,  he  tore  all  his  attempts 
in  fragments  and  going  to  the  telephone  called  up 
Western  Union. 

"  Take  a  message,  please,  and  get  it  sent  at  once, 
will  you  ? "  he  called  and  then  dictated  word  by 
word : 


364  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

To  Mrs.  Raleigh  Payne, 
Sky  High, 

Four  Roads,  New  Hampshire  — 

City  glorious.     Off  to  play,  no  time  to  write.    Love  to 
Grandee.    "  On  with  the  dance  "  ! 

L.  T. 


And  then  he  sat  down  and  burying  his  head  on 
his  arms  shook  like  a  man  in  ague  from  the  effort 
not  to  sob.  And  it  was  not  till  afternoon,  follow 
ing  a  night  that  brought  no  counsel,  that  he  re 
turned  hastily  to  Sky  High,  without  having  accom 
plished  all  of  that  important  business  he  had  de 
clared  as  his  object  in  coming. 

Stephanie  had  waked  and  dreamed  the  night 
away  by  turns,  not  neglecting  the  call  of  the  two 
o'clock  freight  or  the  four  o'clock  express.  At  in 
tervals  she  counted  the  hours  until  she  had  him 
back.  That  he  might  not  come  had  never  oc 
curred  to  her.  Grandee  talked  delightfully  at  din 
ner,  of  the  vulgarity  of  cities,  of  the  modesty  and 
charm  of  the  country  to  natures  fine  enough  to  ap 
preciate  its  distinction  of  silence  and  space.  It 
reassured  her  soothingly.  Terrified  as  she  always 
was  by  the  thought  of  any  woman  attracting  Trent, 
any  girl  charming  him  by  contrast,  it  comforted 
her  to  remember  how  banal  and  unsympathetic  the 
glare  and  crowds  must  seem  to  him,  after  their 
hidden  life  together  here.  It  had  been  a  monstrous 


THE  POSTMAN  365 

risk  to  run,  she  admitted,  but  he  would  come  back 
more  hers  than  ever.  The  agony  she  suffered  in 
the  dread  of  his  leaving  her  would  be  assuaged,  at 
least  for  a  time,  in  his  gladness  of  return.  She 
went  over  all  the  circumstances  that  might  be 
safely  calculated  upon  to  detain  Raleigh.  Trent 
and  she  had  a  little  longer, —  and  one  of  them 
might  die  before  the  end, —  who  could  say? 

At  dawn  she  told  herself  she  should  see  Trent 
before  another  day,  and  waited  with  steadier  fin 
gers  than  she  had  boasted  for  a  long  time,  as  the 
postman  came  up  the  hill.  He  found  her  waiting 
for  him,  with  gaunt  trees  high  above  her,  pacing 
the  icy  terrace,  with  a  shine  in  her  eyes  to  rival 
the  glitter  of  the  scene  about  her.  He  delivered 
both  letter  and  telegram,  after  the  local  fashion, — 
the  operator  having  been  called  away  to  a  funeral 
and,  seeing  there  was  no  hurry  from  the  contents, 
not  choosing  to  take  the  trouble  to  call  up  Sky 
High  for  its  transmission. 

.  She  managed  to  smile  and  thank  him,  to  even 
comment  on  the  beauty  of  the  ice-storm,  then  she 
lost  herself  in  the  desolate  little  forest,  to  read 
what  she  had  always  known  must  come,  yet  never 
believed  could. 


CHAPTER  XX 

AN    ISSUE  EVADED 

STEPHANIE  still  held  the  letter  and  the  tele 
gram  in  her  hand  when  she  regained  her 
own  room  an  hour  later.  Life  sickened  her. 
She  turned  from  Grandee,  whose  kindly  soul  had 
ministered  and  guarded  so  faithfully.  She  did  not 
want  to  be  saved  from  herself  or  her  sin  or  her 
love.  Deeper  than  those  fangs  of  pain  at  her  heart 
was  her  vivid  consciousness  of  the  sweet  smile  that 
grew  so  cruel,  and  the  cruel  heart  that  was  once  so 
sweet.  She  was  the  victim  of  her  own  nature : 
too  true  to  covet  a  new  love,  too  satisfied  to  crave 
other  satisfactions  or  distraction.  She  had  given 
Trent  all,  from  her  soul's  secret  dim  corners,  and 
if  he  could  not  accept  these  conditions,  she  was  too 
utterly  robbed  to  begin  again.  She  stared  about 
her.  Was  it  all  true?  Had  it  come  to  this? 
Those  pictures  of  Christ  in  the  chapel  windows, 
and  at  the  shrines  of  the  convent, —  did  they  all 
mean  suffering?  Were  they  after  all  something 
that  stood  for  more  than  an  incensed  vision  ?  And 
was  God  a  force  with  whom  she,  Stephanie,  must 
reckon?  She,  whose  mother's  name  was  Pleasure 
and  whose  father's  stricken  from  the  family  rec- 

366 


AN  ISSUE  EVADED  367 

ords?  Was  God  going  to  judge  her,  here  and 
now?  Was  she  facing  inevitable  law  and  punish 
ment  before  death,  like  those  miserable  Old  Testa 
ment  people  she  ignored?  Here,  now,  with  no 
priest  to  intercede  for  her  with  the  Saints?  Was 
the  renunciation  of  the  Imitation  compulsory,  not 
the  tranced  exhortation  of  a  monk?  Was  it  true 
that  she,  Stephanie  of  the  long  mirrors  and  those 
dashing  Viennese  streets,  the  Stephanie  of  salon 
and  ball  room,  was  she  to  be  brought  face  to  face 
alone,  with  sacrifice  of  all  she  loved  and  desired? 
It  could  not  be!  There  must  be  some  way,  some 
expiation  that  could  make  black  look  white  enough 
to  pass!  She  had  found  what  she  supremely 
wanted, —  and  it  had  brought  her  desperate  inward 
desolation,  to  rend  her,  with  ghastly  doubt  laying 
siege  to  her  soul,  and  a  chaotic  uncertainty  of  any 
design  anywhere  that  included  her.  She  had  de 
fied  God,  neglected  the  laws  of  her  religion,  and 
this  had  come  to  pass.  Yet  she  had  asked  so  little 
of  God!  Only  some  one  to  love  and  to  love  her! 
Only  a  boy's  soul! 

From  the  north  window  of  her  room  she  gazed 
hopelessly  out  at  the  slender  denuded  birches,  leaf 
less  and  uninspired.  It  was  a  Boecklin  landscape 
hinting  of  conclusion,  death,  and  doom  even.  The 
hills  in  the  cold  December  light  were  sharply  lined 
as  a  steel  engraving,  solemn  as  a  passage  of  Scrip 
ture.  Seen  behind  the  shivering  virgin  birches 


368  THE  SIN  OF  'ANGELS 

they  seemed  as  the  encircling  Greek  chorus,  about 
to  warn  of  impending  tragedy. 

Raleigh  would  be  there  to-night.  Trent  was 
gone.  What  was  she  to  do? 

"  I  am  Raleigh's  wife, —  I  am  his  wife,"  she 
whispered  to  herself.  "  He  has  the  right  to  do  as 
he  wills  with  me.  And  I  love  life  so  that  I  have 
not  the  force  to  destroy  myself.  No,  it  is  not  that 
I  love  life;  it  is  another  man.  I  will  not  live  with 
Raleigh !  And  I  have  not  money  enough  to  go 
away  and  live  abroad, —  and  my  lover  is  an  Ameri 
can,  with  all  that  signifies,  and  he  has  a  career  too, 
which  he  loves  best  in  the  end,  and  a  horror  of  ir 
regular  relations  with  a  woman.  But  he  is  mine ! 
He  swore  it.  He  is  myself,  and  if  a  man  loves  a 
woman  he  will  kill  her  before  he  will  let  another 
man  take  her  from  him.  The  test  of  a  man  is 
what  he  will  fight  for.  There  may  not  be  any  God, 
but  there  is  love,  and  there  is  the  man  I  love.  And 
if  he  loves  me  he  must  want  to  keep  me  from  Ra 
leigh!" 

But  she  had  not  the  consolation  of  an  ignorant 
faith  in  men,  and  even  as  she  said  it  she  was  terri 
fied,  for  she  knew  it  was  not  inevitable,  it  was  not 
even  probable  in  a  thousand  proven  cases.  A  train 
whistled  at  the  crossing.  Her  eyes  flashed.  Of 
course,  that  was  it.  That  would  settle  it  all.  She 
would  go  to  town  under  any  pretext  and  see  Trent 
mmediately.  How  soft  his  hair  was !  "  Mon 


AN  ISSUE  EVADED  369 

Dieu !  how  I  have  suffered  without  him ! "  she 
sobbed.  Something  relaxed  within  her  and  for  the 
moment  she  was  mercifully  forgetful  that  Trent 
had  a  career  and  she,  incidentally,  a  husband. 

She  forgot  that  while  she  had  waked  and  waited 
Trent  had  gone  gaily  to  the  play,  by  his  own  tele 
gram's  admission.  She  was  blind  to  all  but  the 
vision  she  loved  best,  the  feeling  of  his  arms  about 
her,  his  breath  in  her  own.  For  the  instant  noth 
ing  was  true  but  this, —  after  the  manner  of  women 
who  shun  truth  when  it  lights  an  unwelcome  face. 

The  stamping  of  the  horses  at  the  door  inter 
rupted  her  sharply.  They  were  waiting  as  usual 
at  this  hour,  part  of  the  orderly  habit  of  the  house, 
the  luxury  of  service  and  the  smooth  gliding  ma 
chinery  of  the  rich  establishment, —  all  that  she 
meant  to  put  behind  her  if  she  left  Raleigh.  How 
often  she  had  sent  the  coachman  back !  But  to-day 
he  was  here  as  punctually  as  if  she  had  always  al 
lowed  him  to  serve  her.  She  put  on  a  soft  fur  hat 
and  long  fur  coat,  and  went  hastily  up  to  the  Eyrie, 
on  the  next  floor,  where  Grandee  lived  all  day  un 
til  dinner  time. 

"  Going  out  with  the  horses  ?  I  am  so  glad !  " 
he  encouraged  cordially,  as  his  glance  fell  upon  her 
furs. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  laying  her  hand  on  his,  "  I  am 
going  to  New  York  for  a  few  days,  Grandee.  I 
have  just  decided  it,  in  a  real  American  hurry!" 


370  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

Instantly  his  gaze  penetrated  her,  though  all  he  said 
was: 

"Not  alone?" 

"  Alone,"  she  replied,  and  he  might  have  caught 
the  peculiar  tensity  of  her  emotion  by  the  set  ex 
pression  of  her  mouth,  if  he  had  needed  additional 
revelation  of  something  amiss. 

"  Is  not  this  rather  sudden  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  a  little  sudden,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  Has  Raleigh  telegraphed  you  to  meet  him,  in 
stead  of  coming  up  here?  "  It  occurred  to  him  as 
possible  that  this  had  happened,  and  she  had  re 
sented  its  lack  of  deference,  though  acquiescing  in 
its  demand  upon  her. 

"  No,  but  I  thought  I  would,"  she  said,  as  if  it 
was  a  perfectly  ordinary  move  on  her  part  instead 
of  being  distinctly  extraordinary. 

"  Is  it  a  surprise  you  are  giving  him  ?  " 

"  Perhaps." 

"  He  will  be  here  almost  at  once  unless  he  has 
changed  his  programme.  Are  you  sure  you  will 
catch  him  in  town?  I  should  not  like  to  risk  your 
arriving  alone,  with  only  his  secretary  to  look  after 
you.  Of  course  I  can  notify  Christine,  and  she 
will  take  you  in,  but  still  —  if  you  are  going  down 
on  the  notion  of  meeting  Raleigh,  it  would  be  bet 
ter  to  make  sure  of  his  plans  first,  unless  you 
really  want  to  make  a  lover's  meeting  of  it  ?  " 

She  delayed  over  the  chance  he  was  giving  her 


AN  ISSUE  EVADED  371 

for  cover,  but  refused  it,  to  say,  "  I  would  rather 
not  trouble  Christine." 

"  But  if  you  are  going  down  to  meet  Raleigh, — " 
he  hesitated  and  their  eyes  met.  "  Are  you  going 
down  to  meet  him  —  Stephanie  ?  " 

"  No,  Grandee,  not  to  meet  him."  They  looked 
the  issue  straight  in  each  other's  eyes  then  without 
swerving  or  blinking  it. 

"  I  will  not  meet  him,  yet.  I  cannot,"  she  said 
coldly. 

"  And  I  as  your  host  and  protector  cannot  let 
you  go,"  he  replied  as  if  he  really  regretted  his 
inability. 

"  Then,  much  as  I  must  regret  to  do  so,  I  am 
obliged  to  go  without  your  consent." 

Again  they  faced  each  other,  and  each  under 
stood  in  silence. 

"  I  did  not  come  to  ask  your  consent,  Grandee, 
I  came  to  inform  you  of  my  intention  only,  and  to 
say  adieu, —  nothing  more.  I  need  not  have  told 
you,  but  I  find  it  beyond  my  power  to  leave  you 
without  a  word, —  to  so  fail  in  amiability  after 
your  uncounted  deeds  of  affection,  your  hospital 
ity,  your  gentleness, —  I  could  not  go  away  like 
that!" 

"  Even  though  you  knew  I  should  not  allow  you 
to  go?" 

"  Yes,  even  though  I  was  sure  you  would  not 
prevent  me  when  you  understood  my  position;  for 


372  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

I  have  known,  a  long  time,  that  you  have  seen  and 
have  not  blamed  altogether,  for  sake  of  the  pity 
you  also  felt  for  me."  Randall's  face  was  as  full 
of  suffering  now  as  her  own,  so  full  of  sympathy 
for  her  that  her  lips  suddenly  lost  their  line  of 
pride  to  the  common  curve  of  waning  self-control. 
She  blinked  her  long  lashes  skilfully,  hoping  he 
had  not  seen  the  tears  that  clung  there.  But  al 
ready  his  frail  hand  was  on  hers  and  the  trembling 
of  her  own  shocked  him  out  of  all  convention 
ality. 

"  What  has  happened,  Stephanie  ?  What  do  you 
mean  to  do  ?  "  he  begged  her  gently.  "  You  are 
not  well,  dear,  your  poor  hands  are  icy  cold." 

"  I  am  so  weak !  "  she  protested  petulantly,  "  and 
yet  my  father  before  me  did  what  I  am  doing.  It 
is  in  my  blood,  I  am  not  one  of  your  American 
Amazons!  I  cannot  do  anything  but  love.  That 
is  my  sole  '  metier.'  Please,  Grandee,  if  you  love 
me  a  very  little,  let  me  go — "  trying  to  draw  her 
hand  from  him  as  she  spoke, — "  It  is  no  matter 
what  happens  to  me  now.  I  am  just  one  more 
woman  among  the  thousands  who  curse  the  day 
they  were  born.  I  only  want  to  be  permitted  to 
go  away  for  a  little  quite  alone,  and  perhaps  Father 
Mayhew  can  tell  me  what  to  do.  I  shall  send  for 
him  at  once.  You  know  Raleigh  prohibited  his 
coming  to  me  here.  A  Catholic  without  her  con 
fessor  is  as  a  ship  at  sea  without  a  captain." 


AN  ISSUE  EVADED  373 

"  No  married  woman  needs  a  confessor  to  re 
peat  her  duty  toward  the  man  whose  name  she 
bears,"  said  Grandee,  trying  to  be  stern. 

"  You  forget,  Grandee,"  she  said  wearily,  "  that 
I  am  as  I  told  you,  weak.  I  have  not  of  the  char 
acter,  as  your  Christine  understands  it.  I  am 
weaker  than  other  European  women  even,  by  the 
facts  of  my  birth.  I  am  only  strong  where  I  love, 
and  I  do  not  love  Raleigh  Payne." 

He  took  it  without  demonstration  of  any  sort, 
still  holding  her  as  if  he  feared  she  would  disap 
pear  in  spite  of  him.  "  Listen,  Stephanie,"  he 
urged.  "  When  a  woman  is  guided  through  life 
by  her  head  and  her  heart,  her  love  burns  as  a 
pure  flame,  giving  light  and  warmth,  but  when  her 
sense  and  head  guide  her,  the  fire  she  generates  is 
apt  to  be  a  destroying  fire,  leaving  blackness  in  its 
course.  Sense  in  predominance,  without  head,  can 
not  be  other  than  false  to  all  high  destination,  for 
it  lures  only  instincts  of  the  flesh,  lowest  in  the 
lower  animals.  It  is  left  to  sense,  directed  to 
ward  its  prey  by  brains,  to  undo  and  pervert  all 
the  angel  in  man,  under  cleverly  devised  sophis 
tries  that  are  traps,  and  excuses  that  do  not  excuse, 
that  arouse  and  never  satisfy,  stimulating  imag 
inary  desires  that  are  fiercer  than  normal  realities. 
The  heart  is  a  good  woman's  stronghold.  The 
senses  are  a  bad  woman's  invincible  army.  Sense 
is  the  kingdom  of  the  courtesan  and  the  subtlest 


374  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

danger  of  the  lonely  woman,  or  the  woman  whose 
powers  are  unemployed.     I  realise  — " 

But  she  heard  the  horses  stamp  impatiently. 
She  was  insane  to  be  gone.  That  was  all. 

"  Forgive  me,  Grandee ! "  she  cried,  drawing  her 
hand  away.  "•!  am  definitely  decided.  I  remem 
ber  my  heritage  and  I  cannot  even  wish  to  do  other 
wise." 

"  My  dear  Stephanie,  the  impulse  to  be  weak 
cannot  excuse  itself  by  heredity,"  Randall  pro 
tested,  rising  and  standing  before  her.  "  All  the 
science  of  evolution  is  built  upon  a  theory  directly 
opposed  to  such  an  exception.  We  should  never 
have  kicked  ourselves  up  out  of  the  tadpole  stage. 
if  we  had  submitted  to  being  eternally  tadpoles  be 
cause  we  came  of  tadpoles!  We  are  men  to-day 
simply  because  we  went  our  ancestry  one  better, 
as  you  are  going  to  prove.  We  have  risen  by  an 
infinitely  small  series  of  progressions  but  always 
bettering  the  type.  And  because  your  father  let 
himself  go  to  his  lower  instinct  is  no  shadow  of  a 
reason  why  you,  born  a  free  soul,  should  excuse 
yourself  for  admitting  his  propensities." 

"  Science !  "  she  mocked,  "  it  is  indeed  far  from 
my  heart ! " 

"  No  it  is  not,"  he  opposed.  "  You  are  respon 
sible  to  science  as  much  as  it  is  responsible  for 
you!" 

"  The  race  is  all  the  same  to  me,"  she  shrugged — 


AN  ISSUE  EVADED  375 

"  I  want  my  joy  now.  If  others  do,  let  them  take 
it,  or  if  they  chose  science  or  religion,  let  them  take 
what  they  will  !  " 

Randall  thought  of  Euripides'  cry: 

:wenty-four  hours  in  every  day,  and  seven  of  these 
n  each  week,  for  regret  and 


"  And  because  you  are  a  specialised  form  of  in 
dividualism,  you  prove  your  own  concern  with  im 
mortality  and  potentiality  !  "  he  said  in  conclusion 
of  his  own  idea.  He  was  sure  she  was  not  hear 
ing  what  he  said,  though  she  seemed  to  be  listening 
to  something,  it  might  have  been  the  whistle  of  a 
train  from  the  crossing,  but  she  gave  no  sign  of 
interest  externally. 

"I  am  cursed.  What  does  anything  matter?" 
she  said,  coming  back  to  herself  with  a  start  to 
realise  he  was  waiting. 

"  My  sweet,  mistaken  child  !  "  Randall  cried,  lay 
ing  his  wasted  hand  again  upon  her  soft,  white 
one.  "  You  share  the  curse  of  all  of  us  poor  mor 
tal  immortals.  No  more,  no  less!  How  an  im 
mortal  shall  house  himself  with  dignity,  or  any 
semblance  of  grace,  in  a  mortal  form,  —  how  the 
body  shall  subordinate  itself  to  its  demands  upon 
the  soul,  —  it  is  a  helpless  mystery.  We  must  leave 
it  to  the  secret  intent  of  the  Supreme  Certainty. 
God  knows  what  he  intended  the  outcome  to  be, 
racial  persistence  or  personal  resurrection,  but  the 


376  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

fact  to  respect  is  very  elementary.     Any  child  may 
understand  it — " 

"  And  this, —  what  is  this  fact, —  which  I  do 
not  understand  in  the  least !  " 

--  H'nlrri'i?*»fyJily  fais.  that  any  one  insignificant  thine: 
.forgive  me,  Oiaim^^;     ^iiv,  ^n^u.,  GI  awing  n>--  . 

.land  away.     "•!  am  definitely  decided.     I  remem- 
and  siccis  mv.  MT^/*.  w.^^  ^,,^.~.  i***,  -.^.u^.    •  » 

"  Grandee,  dearest,  I  am  not  of  a  seriousness,  or 
of  an  importance,"  she  pleaded,  like  a  wistful  child 
of  a  sudden.  "  I  ask  only,  as  the  birds  and  flow 
ers,  my  little  hour  of  sunshine.  I  have  not  even 
those  magnificent  ideals  for  others  that  Raleigh 
has.  I  have  never  had  any  sweetness  in  my  life 
until  this  present  time." 

"  Do  not  make  so  trivial  a  programme  for  your 
self  !  "  he  broke  in.  "  You  are  a  part  of  life's  love 
liness,  Stephanie.  One  cannot  see  you  without  a 
thrill.  You  are  made  for  our  joy.  Do  not  let  the 
passion  for  one  person  begin  and  end  here!  I 
fancy  in  the  pretty  dream  of  Jacob,  that  the  angels 
could  not  have  come  down  to  him  if  his  ladder  had 
not  rested  against  heaven.  We  live  by  vision,  tell 
me  your  vision  for  your  life  and  I  will  help  you 
realise  it,  as  far  as  my  powers  permit !  "  He  was 
stirred  beyond  all  his  usual  reserve,  for  life  with 
out  vision  would  to  him  be  pillaged  indeed. 

"  Tell  me  your  vision !  "  he  begged  again,  but 
she  shook  her  head  tmcomprehendingly. 

"  A  man's  face  " —  she  said  slowly. 


AN  ISSUE  EVADED  377 

Steven  Randall  thought  rapidly.  "  It  is  not . 
strange  that  it  has  all  happened  as  it  has,"  he  said 
sadly.  He  knew  his  world  and  hers  too  well  to 
preach  the  beauty  of  the  ideal  to  this  wilful 
woman.  Experience  had  taught  him  that  there  are 
twenty-four  hours  in  every  day,  and  seven  of  these 
in  each  week,  for  regret  and  mortal  loneliness  to 
fill.  Life  is  too  long  to  throw  away  happiness! 
He  knew  that  cry.  She  had  no  need  to  teach  it 
to  him  now. 

"  Stephanie,"  he  said,  lowering  his  voice  to  a 
thrilling  whisper,  "he  is  to  be  a  priest  perhaps,  a 
great  and  distinguished  mark  in  literature  certainly. 
You  would  not  wish  to  blight  his  career,  to  hurt 
the  man  you  love?" 

"  Why  not  ?  "  she  challenged,  her  face  harden 
ing.  "  If  I  was  able  to  do  that,  it  would  be  just 
so  much  paid  of  the  debt  due  his  sex  from 
mine ! " 

"  Then  you  are  selfish  and  wicked  and  no  longer 
the  Stephanie  I  love,"  he  accused.  "  Love  is  al 
ways  two-thirds  sacrifice.  Your  pleasure  is  noth 
ing  beside  his  immortal  value.  You  love  yourself 
—  not  another." 

"  And  I  find  the  people  banal,  who  so  comfortably 
assign  resignation  and  a  career  of  blameless,  empty 
sacrifice,  for  other  people !  Renunciation  is  charm 
ing  in  art  and  popular  literature,  but  it  is  not  for 
me,  not  until  every  path  of  happiness  has  been 


378  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS      . 

proved  false.  I  have  no  desire  to  be  strong  and 
solitary!  I  have  told  you  I  am  a  weak  woman.  I 
am  not  a  great  soul ! " 

Randall  knew  that  sin  is  weakness  oftener  than 
deliberate  strength.  He  tried  to  explain  something 
of  this  to  her  now,  but  she  repulsed  him  with  a 
repetition  of  her  first  statement.  "  I  am  weak. 
My  father  ruined  himself  for  love,  my  mother's 
name  was  Pleasure, —  so  my  grandmother,  the  old 
Countess,  always  said.  I  have  not  that  within  me 
that  cares  to  resist  my  heart.  I  love.  I  do  not 
wish  to  resist.  It  is  my  fate, —  that  is  all." 

Randall  saw  the  futility  of  appeal  on  general 
lines.  How  softly  her  furs  covered  her  implacable 
resolve!  He  changed  his  tactics  deliberately  then, 
saying  with  all  his  affection  for  her  visible  on  his 
face: 

"  But  if  you  will  not  stay  for  right's  sake,  or 
for  Raleigh's  sake,  or  for  the  sake  of  the  other 
you  do  love,  will  you  stay  for  mine,  Stephanie?" 
I  am  less  strong  this  autumn,  and  I  care  for  you 
very  fondly,  as  your  own  father  might  have.  Let 
me  talk  to  you  for  a  few  minutes  only  as  if  you 
really  belonged  to  me — " 

A  tear  rolled  across  her  cheek  under  her  veil. 
"  I  want  to  do  what  I  ought,  Grandee.  I  was 
trained  in  obedience,  but  I  have  had  no  one  here 
to  guide  me.  I  could  carry  any  cross  if  Father 
Mayhew  told  me  I  must,  or  give  up  any  pleasure  if 


AN  ISSUE  EVADED  379 

a  priest  said,  '  My  child,  you  must ;  or  must  refrain/ 
It  is  the  uncertainty  about  what  I  have  to  do  now 
that  is  making  me  ill.  Some  days  here  God  has 
seemed  like  a  divine  romance,  I  feel  most  affected 
toward  him,  as  if  he  and  love  were  the  same.  And 
some  days  he  seems  a  superstition  of  the  Orient, 
so  droll  as  to  make  me  feel  like  any  comedienne  to 
be  thinking  of  it  seriously,  when  I  recall  it  after 
ward.  I  am  afraid  of  death,  but  I  am  more  afraid 
of  this  long  life  that  I  am  sure  will  be  always  tor 
menting.  Please  let  me  go  to  Father  Mayhew 
now.  He  will  help  me." 

"  My  own  vision  of  death  has  become  so  soft 
ened,  dear,"  he  remonstrated  soothingly.  "  May  it 
not  be  our  dearest  angel,  longing  to  liberate  us? 
How  I  wish  I  might  help  free  you,  and  this  whole 
scared  world,  from  the  terror  of  it!  It  does  not 
seem  as  if  we  had  been  quite  fairly  treated  about  it, 
—  and  if  you  will  stay  with  me,  I  shall  feel  it  is 
a  case  of  angels  *  all  the  way/  like  Browning's 
roses." 

"  I  wish  I  were  that  angelic  being  you  paint, 
Grandee,  but — " 

"  Every  woman  has  something  of  everything  in 
her,"  he  told  her  solemnly.  "  Let  us  be  wise  and 
talk  together  quietly.  In  America,  men  merge 
their  love  in  its  developing  results — " 

"  Ah,  yes !  You  have  said  it ! "  she  agreed. 
"  And  in  Europe  love  is  an  art,  an  occupation  in 


380  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

itself.  One  loves,  hopes,  despairs,  regrets,  until 
one  is  borne  to  the  tomb !  " 

"Raleigh  loves  you  as  American  men  often 
love,"  he  went  on,  disregarding  her  interlude,  but 
she  confronted  him  with: 

"  No,  not  even  that !  Remember,  I  know  an 
other  type.  Raleigh  loves  himself.  If  he  deceived 
me  with  another  woman,  at  least  I  should  feel  pas 
sion  was  yet  alive  in  him.  I  could  still  wish  to 
bring  him  to  my  feet.  But  how  is  a  woman  to  be 
jealous  of  his  career?  A  creature,  formless,  with 
out  flesh  and  blood,  an  idea  without  a  body,  a  dis 
traction  without  lips  to  kiss  or  arms  to  cling? 
How  is  a  woman  to  care,  if  she  is  not  jealous? 
And  how  is  she  to  attack  such  a  rival  as  this?  If 
he  loved  a  woman,  I  should  be  perhaps  hot  for  a 
struggle,  warmed  into  life  by  the  challenge  of  her 
charm.  But,  bah !  He  leaves  me  for  his  stupid 
debates,  his  political  strifes,  his  interest  in  public 
affairs  of  commerce  and  finance,  his  railroads  and 
associations  and  always  his  meetings  of  pompous 
importance, —  to  him  —  always  to  him!  The  in 
trigues  of  diplomacy,  when  he  had  made  a  suffi 
ciently  brilliant  name,  he  discards  for  the  sordid 
power  of  money.  He  lacks  in  spirit,  in  imagina 
tion,  '  finesse,'  '  chic,'  what  you  will !  And  flies  to 
protect  his  precious  health  at  the  first  distant  hint 
of  fatigue, —  forgetful  of  all  possible  weariness  in 
others,  or  in  her  who  has  the  honour  to  bear  his 


AN  ISSUE  EVADED  381 

name,  as  you  have  recently   reminded  me  I  still 
have." 

Randall  grew  whiter,  his  nostrils  thinned  dan 
gerously,  denoting  exhaustion. 

"  You  cannot  call  him  entirely  given  over  to  vul 
gar  gain,"  he  reproved.  "  Remember  his  poetry ! 
Raleigh  has  the  artist  side  and  it  is  for  you  to  find 
and  strengthen  it.  Make  him  something  you  can 
be  proud  of,  if  his  way  of  making  you  proud  is  a 
failure.  Woman  can  make  men  do  anything,  good 
or  bad.  I  should  never  have  suspected  Raleigh  ca 
pable  of  the  feeling  his  poems  betrayed  for  you. 
What  you  have  supposed  was  stolidity  is  his  re 
serve.  Men  are  not  as  a  race  apt  at  expressing 
their  deepest  feeling  about  any  subject.  .Raleigh 
has  given  you  a  proof  that  surely  none  but  a  great 
poet  ever  gave  a  woman  of  her  power  over  him. 
Of  course  I  read  his  reason  for  withholding  the 
author's  name  between  the  lines." 

Her  face  did  not  change.  She  showed  no  sign 
of  sympathy,  no  softening  reassurance. 

"  Me,  myself,"  she  began,  in  her  idiomatic  way, 
"  I  was  never  pleased  with  his  poems.  They  are 
hypocritical.  He  knows  nothing  of  any  of  the  emo 
tions  they  describe." 

Randall  was  taken  off  his  guard.  Could  it  be 
that  she  suspected  them  written  to  another  woman? 
His  first  love  perhaps?  He  hesitated,  for  an  in 
stant  his  own  reason  misgave  him.  Then  he 


382  THE  SIN  OF  'ANGELS 

steadied  himself  on  Raleigh's  good  taste.  He 
would  never  exploit  an  irregular  affection.  That 
was  not  Raleigh.  Faithful  to  the  very  few  who 
won  him,  he  pursued  through  life  this  ideal  of 
selfish  honour,  unscrupulously;  utterly  regardless 
of  the  rights  of  others,  the  wishes  or  resisting  force 
of  those  with  whom  he  dealt.  Was  Raleigh  to 
come  face  to  face  with  failure,  which  is  almost 
certain  to  be  the  fate  of  one  who  judges  others 
solely  by  their  value  to  himself?  The  poems  were 
spontaneous  contradiction.  She  must  be  brought 
to  see  it. 

"  You  do  not  for  one  instant  conceive  the  poems 
as  inspired  by  any  other  woman  ?  "  he  demanded, 
brusquely,  prepared  to  convince  her. 

"  Not  for  one  instant,"  she  assured  him,  but  he 
felt  she  was  holding  what  she  did  mean  very  far 
back  in  her  mind. 

"  Love  for  your  husband  aside,  if  you  live  to  be 
as  old  as  I, — "  he  began,  but  he  saw  her  draw  back 
involuntarily  as  if  to  ward  off  his  fate,  deny  the 
desire  for  age.  "  If  you  live  to  look  back  over  a 
long  and  varied  life,"  he  continued  calmly,  "  you 
will  only  regret  that  you  did  not  always  do  the 
right  thing." 

"  But  you  have,  poor,  dear  Grandee,"  she  encour 
aged  commiseratingly. 

"  No,  not  always,  not  nearly  always,"  he  admit 
ted.  "  Not  even  always  when  I  knew  what  was 


AN  ISSUE  EVADED  383 

right,  or  which  was  which.  And  once  when  I 
knew  perfectly  and  chose  the  wrong." 

To  his  amazement  she  threw  herself  on  his  breast 
with  all  the  abandon  that  had  made  her  as  a  child 
so  unexpectedly  adorable. 

"  Grandee,  most  dear  Grandee !  Then  I  will 
stay  with  you  always,  with  you,  not  with  Raleigh, 
as  long  as  you  want  me !  "  she  promised.  "  If  you 
have  done  wrong  perhaps  love  made  you,  and  love 
will  make  clear  to  you  how  I  feel,  how  I  suffer. 
For  surely  the  blessed  A  Kempis  knows,  and  I 
know,  that  love  is  all  that  is  of  any  importance, 
though  other  things  for  a  time  may  be  made  to 
appear  so !  The  awful  loneliness  will  vanish.  Oh, 
why  did  I  never  suspect  that  you  too  had  sinned? 
Dear,  marvellous  Grandee,  I  might  have  known  you 
were  not  in  vain  named  for  the  holy  martyr  and 
saint.  And  if  at  any  time  Society  has  stoned  you 
for  your  faith  in  love,  or  in  some  one  too  lovely 
to  be  quite  faithful,  or  admirable  in  the  dull  virtues, 
it  is  Stephanie,  who  will  understand  and  cherish 
you  the  more,  and  you  will  in  turn  comprehend 
how  she  may  get  free  from  her  chains  and  be 
happy  with  her  love,  who  is  too  young  to  be  wholly 
sanctified  to  renunciation !  " 

Some  one  knocked  and  pushed  the  door  defer 
entially  open.  It  was  Randall's  personal  manserv 
ant. 

"  Mr.   Trent  is  in  the  drawing-room,"  he   said 


384  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

and  withdrew,  closing  the  door  as  noiselessly  as 
he  had  opened  it.  Stephanie  gave  a  broken  cry  of 
joy  — "  Let  me  go  to  him !  " 

They  stood  for  a  long  pause,  confronting  each 
other  and  the  situation. 

Then  Randall  turned  without  a  word  and  left 
the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  WAY  OF  THE  WORLD 

STEPHANIE  sank  down  on  the  arm  of  Ran 
dall's  lounging  chair,  overcome  by  a  sudden 
extinction  of  being.  Her  limbs,  betrayed  by 
the  wild  beating  of  her  heart,  refused  to  support 
her.  Mentally  she  was  unable  to  distinguish  one 
emotion  from  another.  It  was  not  fear  that  pos 
sessed  her,  yet  it  was  a  sweet  form  of  terror.  It 
was  not  passion,  for  it  desired  nothing,  simply  ac 
quiesced.  Nor  was  it  desperation,  for  it  was  suf 
fused  with  a  sort  of  death  rapture,  a  final  wonder, 
that  could  never  put  her  back  in  life  as  it  was  be 
fore,  and  might  be  the  open  door  to  a  second  ex 
istence  beyond  her  present  ordeal.  Randall  re 
turning,  read  her  as  a  soul  at  bay,  between  the 
hunter  Duty,  and  the  instincts  whose  prompting 
would  carry  her  over  the  gulf  of  destruction. 

She  saw  him  drop  a  few  drops  of  powerful 
restorative,  without  compunction,  almost  with  envy, 
but  weighed  down  as  one  in  a  heavy  dream,  pow 
erless  to  interfere. 

"  Please  wait  here,  a  little  while,  Stephanie,"  he 
requested.  "  I  will  see  Trent  to-day  by  himself. 
It  will  be  better." 

385 


386  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

He  avoided  sending  her  away,  sparing  her  the 
momentary  feeling  of  a  culprit  sentenced  to  her 
own  room,  and  accepting  for  her  sake  the  addi 
tional  effort  of  this  extra  journey  downstairs  at 
an  unwonted  hour. 

"  Let  me  go  to  him ! "  had  been  her  involuntary 
first  cry,  but  she  dared  not  repeat  it  now  as  she 
watched  Steven  Randall  moving  slowly  away,  for 
there  was  that  on  his  face  she  had  never  seen  be 
fore.  She  did  not  try  to  define  it,  being  filled  with 
the  thought  of  Trent's  nearness,  but  it  was  in 
reality  the  assertion  of  a  principle  of  the  es 
tablished  social  order,  in  which  he  believed,  and 
for  which  he  would  fight  or  suffer,  or  what  is 
harder,  allow, —  nay,  compel  —  those  he  loved  to 
suffer. 

She  waited  motionless  until  she  heard  the  li 
brary  door  close  behind  him.  Oh,  if  it  was  but 
herself,  Stephanie,  who  stood  there  now!  She 
knew  the  way  to  greet  the  returning  wanderer. 
What  did  Grandee  mean  to  do?  Why  had  he  in 
serted  himself  between  them  to-day,  after  weeks 
of  indifference  to  their  ill-concealed  joy  in  each 
other?  What  would  Trent  feel  toward  her  to  find 
himself  betrayed?  What  had  she  done!  Oh, 
what  had  she  done!  Was  it  too  late  to  say  any 
thing,  do  anything,  that  coul<l  restore  the  lost  equi 
librium  of  the  mutual  relations  of  the  household? 
She  leaned  far  over  the  balustrade,  then  ran  softly 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  WORLD         387 

down  one  flight,  to  catch  at  the  familiar  thrill  of 
the  sight  of  his  coat  and  stick  lying  in  the  hall  be 
low.  The  love  of  inanimate  things  intimate  to  a 
person  who  is  dear,  was  hers.  It  is  like  nothing 
but  the  sting  of  a  fallen  jewel  after  the  hand  that 
wore  it  is  wrenched  from  one's  own  by  death.  All 
her  doubt  of  him,  or  of  herself,  was  gone  at  sight 
of  the  rough  great-coat  that  had  sheltered  him  in 
storms  uncounted:  She  idealised  it  until  seraphic 
wings  shielding  Deity  were  not  absurd  to  her  over 
wrought  comparison.  It  was  intoxication  to  have 
him  within  actual  touch  again,  if  she  chose  to  break 
Grandee's  prohibition  and  go  down  to  them,  as  if 
nothing  had  happened.  She  looked  at  the  coat 
again  for  courage.  And  if  the  body  is  dear,  why 
may  not  the  outer  garment  be  precious?  Shall  the 
soul  say  "  I  have  no  need  of  love's  transfiguring 
smile  to  express  me  ?  "  Does  not  Nature  prefigure 
its  Creator? 

Trent  was  standing  looking  out  upon  the  dreary 
winter  landscape,  when  his  quick  ears  told  him  it 
was  not  Stephanie's  step  approaching,  so  that  his 
gladness  at  Grandee's  welcome  was  untroubled  by 
either  immediate,  or  fear  of  ultimate  disappoint 
ment.  Grandee  was  always  a  joy.  She  would 
come  soon.  She  never  had  any  engagements. 
Perhaps  they  would  have  tea  together  in  the  Eyrie, 
though  it  was  really  later  than  the  Sky  High  hour, 
and  he  might  stay  on  to  dinner  and  for  the  even- 


388  THE  SIN  OF  'ANGELS 

ing.  Everything  was  just  as  he  had  left  it.  The 
very  inanimate  backs  of  the  beloved  books  glowed 
in  remembrance  of  their  happy  hours  together. 
He  had  been  gone  but  two  nights,  yet  it  seemed  a 
long  time.  He  derided  himself  for  being  so  in 
ordinately  glad  to  find  nothing  changed  in  his  ab 
sence.  Nothing  could  have  changed  or  happened 
at  Sky  High  in  two  nights  and  part  of  three  days. 
The  leisurely  patrician  quality  of  its  atmosphere 
forbade  such  a  suggestion.  So  the  two  men 
greeted  each  other  warmly  and  made  themselves 
comfortable  over  the  log  fire  that  never  seemed  to 
go  out;  the  lighted  shrine  of  the  household.  The 
absence  of  tea,  or  any  mention  of  it,  aroused  a  sus 
picion  at  last  of  something  not  quite  natural  in 
their  pleasant  intercourse  resumed. 

It  seemed  to  have  been  forgotten  by  Grandee,  in 
a  lapse  of  hospitality  caused  by  something  absorb 
ing  enough  to  put  it  second  for  the  moment, — which 
in  itself  hinted  strangely. 

"  Mrs.  Payne  is  not  in  ? "  Trent  asked,  as  the 
long  minutes  passed  and  no  allusion  to  her  was 
forthcoming. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  so,"  Grandee  replied,  speaking  of 
something  else  and  making  no  motion  toward  sum 
moning  her. 

"  She  is  not  ill  ?  "  Trent  asked  again,  too  nervous 
to  veil  his  anxiety. 

"  No,  I  think  she  knows  you  are  here.     She  was 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  WORLD         389 

with  me  in  the  Eyrie  when  the  man  announced 
your  name." 

The  pause  that  followed  implied  that  the  servant 
had  undoubtedly  announced  him  to  them  both. 

She  had  often  kept  him  waiting.  He  tried  to 
quiet  his  impatience  by  imagining  what  mood  the 
gown  she  was  even  now  putting  on  for  him  would 
imply.  How  much  should  he  be  expected  to  read 
in  the  colour  ?  Would  it  denote  a  reserve  or  frank 
ness  of  attitude  toward  him?  It  would  perhaps  be 
long,  and  graceful,  and  dark, — like  twilight,  the 
blessed  Damozel  incarnate, — or  no,  it  would  be 
radiant  and  soft  and  illumined  like  Fra  Angelico 
robed  in  Paris, — or  no,  it  would  be  Vienna  ram 
pant  !  Coquettish,  "  provocant,"  to  suit  dazzling 
glances  shot  at  him  beneath  half-lowered  lashes. 
He  was  young  and  in  love  and  his  dutiful  chat  with 
Grandee  harassed  him.  He  wanted  to  shut  his 
eyes  and  hold  his  breath  until  he  had  again — oh,  it 
was  two  nights  and  almost  three  days  since  he  had 
seen  her! 

If  Raleigh  Payne  carried  his  wife  as  a  distant 
load-star  on  the  horizon  of  his  brilliant  career  and 
was  satisfied, — Trent  held  her  close  in  the  depths 
of  sub-consciousness,  a  part  of  himself  not  himself, 
as  men  more  or  less  against  their  will  admit  the 
abiding  presence  of  God.  And  Stephanie  was  the 
equal  of  neither,  and  to  both  she  seemed  all  that  she 
most  was  not  perhaps.  And  how  is  truth  in  the 


390  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

relation  of  a  man  and  a  woman  ever  to  be  estab 
lished,  since  one  unconsciously  deceives  the  other 
by  being  other  than  he  seems  to  her, —  and  the 
other  by  seeming  other  than  she  is  to  him  ?  Steven 
Randall,  intentionally  procrastinating,  gaining  time, 
listening  for  his  nephew,  was  evading  an  issue  for 
the  sake  of  the  man  before  him.  He  knew  that 
antagonism  of  sex  was  strongly  developed  in  Trent. 
It  had  impressed  Stephanie  often,  as  if  he  resented 
his  feeling  for  her,  mocked  at  himself  for  it,  hated 
her  as  much  as  he  loved  her,  was  ashamed  of  her 
power  over  him,  then  in  sudden  revulsion  kissed 
his  chains,  subdued  by  that  irresistible  intoxication 
the  variation  of  sex  exerts  over  its  chosen  victims. 
The  meeting  of  these  two  unusual  male  natures  to 
day,  in  conflict  over  a  woman  was  something  to  be 
positively  negatived. 

Randall  realised  that  he  need  not  hope  for  acci 
dent  to  deliver ;  nor  event  to  take  a  hand  in  the  ad 
justment  of  these  three  lives,  to  which  he*  was 
bound  by  varying  degrees  of  love  and  loyalty. 
Fate  had  looked  the  other  way  at  the  decisive  mo 
ment.  There  were  no  gods  to  reach  down  from 
Olympus  and  magically  protect  or  avenge.  God 
had  again  chosen  a  man,  through  whom  to  work  his 
will.  There  was  no  epoch-making  catastrophe  to 
avert  the  imminent  suffering,  no  sudden  death  to 
relieve  an  over-crowded  situation  of  two  men 
clamouring  for  the  love  of  one  woman.  There  was 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  WORLD         391 

to  be  no  intervening  Providence.  Steven  Randall 
saw  that  a  simple  tragedy  was  nearing  its  culmina 
tion.  That  was  all.  The  elements  of  raw  sin  and 
fainting  righteousness  were  waiting  to  overwhelm 
their  prey  with  inevitable  consequence.  There  were 
no  thunderbolts  from  heaven  to  descend.  As 
naturally  as  luncheon  had  followed  breakfast,  and 
dinner  would  follow  tea  in  the  ordinary  routine  of 
their  well-regulated  lives,  will  and  principle  were 
to  be  the  decisive  factors  in  the  tragedy  developing 
before  its  single  unwilling  spectator.  Training,  re 
ligion,  reason,  enlisted  against  love,  youth,  and,  on 
the  woman's  part,  a  rankling  sense  of  injustice. 
Was  it  strange  that  the  issue  found  him  reluctant? 
And  for  the  sake  of  each  of  them  it  was  imperative 
he  made  no  mistake. 

"  I  came  down  to  see  you  this  afternoon,  Law 
rence,"  he  said  kindly,  when  it  could  be  staved  off 
no  longer,  "  because  I  am  expecting  my  nephew 
hourly."  If  he  looked  for  any  evidence  of  interest 
on  the  part  of  Trent  he  was  to  be  disappointed. 

"  He  is  coming  to  surprise  Mrs.  Payne,"  he  con 
tinued.  Still  no  show  of  concern. 

"  Naturally  she  is  bound  to  keep  her  afternoon 
free  of  other  engagements,"  Randall  explained 
easily.  "  He  has  been  gone  nearly  three  months, 
you  know.  It  will  be  a  time  when  husband  and 
wife  will  forget  us  poor  bachelors  out  in  the  cold." 

"  Will  it  ?  "  Trent  said.     He  asked  seriously,  for 


392  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

information,  not  in  a  flippant  manner  of  doubting  its 
truth. 

An  awkward  pause  followed,  during  which  they 
looked  each  other  full  in  the  face.  Randall  held 
out  his  hand, —  "  Frankly,  man  to  man,  you  will  un 
derstand  my  motive  in  coming  down,  instead  of 
sending  her  to-day,  won't  you?  Without  further 
words,  I  mean  ?  "  he  requested  kindly. 

Trent's  eyes  fixed  as  if  measuring  a  mark  at 
which  he  intended  to  fire.  His  pale  face  hardened 
to  parian. 

"  Did  Mrs.  Payne  know  you  were  going  to  say 
this  to  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No." 

"Then  if  not, — "  he  broke  off,  as  Randall  re 
minded  him  with  some  hauteur: 

"  She  is  in  my  guardianship,  you  remember,  be 
holden  to  the  honour  of  my  house." 

Trent  winced.  "  I  hope  I  did  not  deserve  that 
rebuke,  sir,"  he  said  courteously. 

"  It  was  not  a  rebuke.  It  was  a  reminder  only. 
You  are  bewildered,  my  dear  Lawrence.  Life  has 
overtaken  you  at  a  vantage  you  cannot  gainsay.  I 
am  trying  to  help  you.  Whatever  transitory  folly 
or  mistake  has  occurred  can  be  overtaken  now. 
Later  perhaps  it  might  have  been  too  late.  Women 
are  emotional,  self-deception  is  inherent  in  them, 
they  are  undependable,  and  much  of  their  charm 
would  be  gone  if  they  were  not.  But  a  married 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  WORLD         393 

woman  is  a  blind  alley,  or  worse, —  and  I  trust  you 
will  spare  me  further  remark  or  suggestion.  Ra 
leigh,  as  I  told  you,  comes  to-night." 

"  And  what  if  he  does  ?  How  does  that  change 
anything  for  her?  What  does  it  amount  to  more 
than  it  has  in  the  past?"  he  demanded,  surprising 
Randall  by  his  counter-questioning. 

"  It  amounts  to  this  for  you,  that  you  have  a 
family  and  a  distinguished  career  before  you,  which 
you  must  not  be  allowed  to  mar  at  the  outset." 

"  I  did  not  inquire  about  myself.  It  is  too  late 
to  talk  about  laudable  ambition  to  me,  when  it 
means  at  the  cost  of  everything  else  most  sacred 
in  life !  "  he  insisted  bitterly. 

"  It  amounts  to  this  then,  for  her.  Raleigh  is 
after  all  her  husband.  She  will  go  back  to  him, 
even  if  her  heart  has  temporarily  played  truant  in 
his  absence.  Their  habits  are  familiar.  She  is 
his  wife  and  he  will  assume  control  naturally  and 
inevitably.  The  will-o'-the-wisp  may  be  a  pretty 
pastime,  but  certainty,  to  a  woman  of  Mrs.  Payne's 
type,  is  greater  than  romance  in  the  last  equation. 
She  would  have  no  fancy  for  second  or  third  class 
foreign  resorts,  or  a  stately  retreat  behind  remote 
ivy- wound  palings  of  some  lonely  chateau  in 
France, —  Paris  forgotten  but  not  well-lost.  My 
nephew  has  sacrificed  her  to  his  ambition,  I  grant 
you.  He  made  her  live  in  this  country,  isolated 
her  from  her  practice  of  formal  religion,  subjected 


394  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

her  to  every  temptation  that  most  easily  besets  a 
young  and  attractive  woman.  He  is,  however,  her 
husband.  He  has  his  rights." 

"  He  is  a  brute ! "  Trent  stated  baldly. 

"  No,  he  is  a  victim  of  the  American  form  of 
the  grand  passion  —  Ambition.  Stephanie  will  ac 
cept  life  on  his  terms  in  the  end,  and  she  will  be 
satisfactorily  compensated  for  all  she  has  endured 
temporarily.  He  will  place  her  beyond  any  posi 
tion  you  could  ever  hope  to  give  her.  He  has  es 
tablished  himself  in  the  world,  and  in  her  rational 
moments  she  perfectly  estimates  the  importance  of 
that  world's  esteem." 

"The  world  you  think  she  cares  so  much  for, 
may  turn  down  its  thumbs  when  it  hears  that  she 
has  left  him, —  and  why,"  he  insinuated. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  boy,  how  unworldly  you  are ! 
The  world  goes  with  the  man  always.  One  knows 
in  advance,  as  well  as  if  it  was  already  in  one's 
ears,  how  the  world  will  talk.  *  Raleigh  Payne  ? 
Why,  he  is  the  very  prince  of  good  fellows.  There 
must  be  something  the  matter  with  a  woman  who 
could  not  appreciate  him!  He  was  mad  enough 
about  her  to  write  poems  about  her  in  business 
hours ! '  And  it  will  not  hurt  Raleigh  a  whit,  but 
it  will  damn  her.  A  woman's  reputation  is  a  mir 
ror  cracked  after  it  is  but  breathed  upon  by  sus 
picion.  And  men  are  a  group  of  pots  and  kettles, 
—  loath  to  call  each  other  black." 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  WORLD         395 

"  If  she  merely  left  him  and  went  quietly 
abroad, — "  he  suggested  tentatively. 

"  Then  they  will  say  less  noisily  but  with  a 
definite  innuendo,  '  What  was  it  about  her,  any 
way?  Was  not  she  seen  about  a  good  deal  up  in 
the  country  with  young  Trent  ? '  And  it  will  not 
hurt  you,  Lawrence,  but  it  will  fasten  a  vague  re 
proach  upon  Stephanie  that  will  never  lift  again. 
If  you  really  care  for  her  there  is  nothing  for  you 
to  do  but  leave  her  alone,  now." 

"  She  will  not  tell  me  this  herself,"  Trent  said 
calmly.  "  I  might  believe  her  if  she  did.  I  might 
not.  But  the  fact  is  that  she  will  not  ask  me  to 
go." 

"  If  she  does  not  consent  to  all  the  conditions 
when  I  have  made  them  clear  to  her,  a  formal  sep 
aration  can  be  arranged.  But  you  know  as  well 
as  I,  that  she  would  not  be  free  to  marry.  I  do 
not  imagine  that  either  she  or  you  would  contem 
plate  any  irregular  relation.  Whatever  you  may 
either  of  you  have  dreamed,  she  will  remain  with 
"  me.  I  have  her  word  for  it.  I  shall  legally  adopt 
her  and  eventually  provide  for  her,  under  these 
conditions." 

Trent  caught  only  at  the  first  admission. 

"  You  have  not  talked  with  her  then, —  beyond 
her  willingness  to  prove  her  affection  for  you  per 
sonally?  You  are  ignorant  of  her  own  real  will 
or  intention  ?  " 


396  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

He  was  fumbling  at  problems  too  big  for  him. 
His  fingers  trembled  over  knots  Raleigh's  firm 
hands  would  have  snapped.  Steven  Randall  saw 
that  he  was  a  .boy  in  a  man's  worst  predicament, 
tasking  a  man's  mature  force  to  the  utmost.  He 
saw  that  Trent  shrank  from  the  situation  in  spite 
of  his  manly  front :  —  shrank,  from  motives  of 
conscience  revealed  by  daylight,  though  not  in 
exorable  as  long  as  they  remained  blurred  in  a 
lover's  twilight  of  the  gods.  While  the  woman 
who  had  swerved  him  from  his  control  was  in  his 
arms,  the  darkness  soft  about  them,  he  was  all  the 
lover  and  the  man  she  dreamed  him.  But  when 
the  scathing  reality  of  other  men's  eyes  was  turned 
dispassionately,  critically  upon  him,  the  chill  reac 
tions  of  fact,  duty,  ideals  still  consecrated,  sapped 
the  glory  of  his  desire  and  left  him  staring  and  in 
competent.  Steven  Randall  perfectly  estimated  his 
worldly  embarrassment  before  the  actual  issue,  and 
counted  it  as  friendly  to  his  own  side  of  the  strug 
gle.  He  took  a  lighter  tone  now,  in  trying  to 
bring  the  boy  to  reason  without  wounding  his  dig 
nity. 

"  You  are  a  scholar,  Lawrence,  bred  to  books. 
You  are  a  victim  of  all  the  hallucinations  ever 
suffered  by  all  the  poets  over  love  and  women. 
But  you  are  lured  hardest  by  the  sirens  of  the 
First  Edition!  Stephanie  has  been,  for  a  time,  the 
embodiment  of  all  that  world  of  sentiment  in  which 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  WORLD         397 

you  have  lived  alone  until  you  met  her.  She  is 
every  one,  in  your  fancy  probably,  from  Helen  of 
Troy  down.  That  has  been  the  great  secret  of 
your  charm  for  her.  The  novelty  of  a  new  and 
absolutely  unspoiled  love  to  a  Stephanie,  gipsy- 
hearted,  born  even  beneath  a  roving  star, 
Rommany-haunted  for  life  from  birth,  you  cannot 
conceive." 

Trent  did  not  contradict  the  analysis.  He  re 
mained  silent  and  the  older  man  knew  that  there 
was  a  harmless  vein  of  unreality  even  in  the  very 
real  suffering  he  was  enduring  now. 

"  How  much  of  an  idea  have  you,  of  what  you 
are  letting  loose  on  us  all  by  your  ill-considered 
impulse  toward  another  man's  wife?"  he  asked 
suddenly,  really  wondering  what  Trent  had  hoped 
or  dreamed. 

"  It  is  not  a  small  thing  to  have  won  a  woman's 
love.  It  overpowers  everything  for  me  and  is 
enough  in  itself,"  Trent  replied  indifferently,  as  if 
it  all  ended  there. 

"  Ah,  you  suppose  it  is  in  the  winning ! "  ex 
claimed  Randall.  "  But  I  tell  you  the  great  artist 
in  life  knows  that  it  is  the  holding!  Even  if  you 
hold  her,  the  rare  woman  who  can  hold  after  she 
was  won,  hers  is  the  kingdom  of  men !  But  with 
out  all  the  safeguards  law  and  religion  can  put  at 
her  command,  how  rare,  how  almost  unheard  of  is 
her  triumphant  vindication!  And  even  if  you  did 


398  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

succeed  in  making  Stephanie  happy,  how  long  will 
she  be  to  you  what  she  is,  without  all  that  went  to 
make  her  your  ideal  ?  " 

"  The  value  of  anything  is  what  it  has  cost 
you,"  Trent  said  tersely. 

"  Paid  in  soul  is  too  costly.  The  soul  is  ille 
gal  tender — " 

"  But  it  puts  a  supreme  rating  on  the  transac 
tion." 

"You  mean?" 

"  It  compels  one  to  be  true  to  it.  It  cuts 
'  noblesse  oblige '  upon  one's  heart." 

"You  still  believe  in  God,  do  you  not?"  Ran- 
daH  asked  abruptly. 

"  What  has  that  got  to  do  with  it?  " 

"  Only  that  it  is  an  odd  way  to  begin  to  be  true 
to  a  woman  by  being  false  to  the  ruling  power  of 
your  life.  I  thought  you  had  committed  yourself 
to  a  life  of  consecration, —  I  even  thought  you  had 
definite  hope  of  the  priesthood." 

Trent  would  not  argue.  Something  in  Grandee's 
face  cut  him,  and  he  cried  out  miserably,  "  Grandee, 
won't  you  understand?  She  is  the  only  woman  I 
have  ever  loved!  I  love  her.  I  want  her, —  no 
matter  about  me.  No  matter  about  my  future  or 
her  past.  I  am  hers  to  do  what  she  likes  with, 
forever  or  for  a  day.  Love  is  like  this.  You  have 
your  character,  Raleigh  Payne  has  his  gratified 
ambition.  I  have  my  love  of  a  woman,  and  may 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  WORLD         399 

God  judge  between  us!  The  highest  love  gives  its 
own  life  for  its  friend.  She  may  have  mine." 
To  Grandee  it  echoed  of  the  defeated  Florentine 
Andrea. 

"  So  —  still  they  overcome 
Because  there's  still  Lucrezia, —  as  I  choose ! " 

he  quoted  sadly,  aside.  "  But  remember,  Law 
rence,"  he  warned  "  there  is  no  value  in  useless  sac 
rifice.  Ask  yourself  who  is  to  be  helped  by  it, 
physically,  morally,  spiritually?  Use  your  reason 
in  religion,  and  above  all  things,  do  not  be  a  fool 
for  Christ's  sake!" 

To  antagonise  Trent  was  always  to  drive  him  to 
any  desperate  extreme.  Randall  trembled  for  the 
outcome  if  Raleigh  arrived  with  Trent  still  in  the 
house  and  in  his  present  unreasoning  mood.  He 
refused  to  treat  his  outburst  as  final,  however 
Trent  might  wish  it  so  considered. 

"  I  do  not  follow  you,  and  I  shall  not  allow  you 
to  throw  away  your  life  or  career  in  which  others 
are  involved,"  he  said  with  authority.  "  You  seem 
to  have  forgotten  that  you  told  me  how  dependent 
your  own  family  were  upon  you,  in  more  ways 
than  one.  Recall  the  example  to  younger  brothers, 
the  dismay  of  those  who  are  counting  upon  you  to 
make  their  old  age  serene  and  proud.  It  will  be 
worse  than  death,  in  many  ways  — " 

"  And  you  will  be  the  murderer,  if  you  put  this 


400  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

in  her  mind  against  me !  "  Trent  declared.  "  She 
will  never  let  me  commit  social  suicide  for  her,  if 
she  realises  it !  " 

"  You  talk  foolishly,"  said  Randall,  looking  at  his 
watch,  "  and  we  have  no  time  for  heroics.  There 
is  an  insurmountable  barrier  between  you.  You 
must  give  up  all  indulgence  in  such  lawless  fan 
cies.  Raleigh  is  due  at  any  moment  and  you  must 
go  at  once.  He  is  not  a  man  to  trifle  with,  in  af 
fairs  touching  his  honour  or  his  heart.  You  must 
withdraw  from  the  situation  in  a  way  that  will 
not  compromise  Mrs.  Payne.  You  must  '  play  the 
game,'  and  when  that  is  done,  I  will  do  anything 
to  make  it  up  to  you.  Go  to  Europe,  if  you  like, 
study,  travel,  collect,  explore, —  every  resource  of 
mine  is  at  your  disposal,  and  that  is  saying  a  good 
deal.  Will  you  do  what  a  man  ought  to,  Law 
rence?  Of  course  you  will!  I  never  doubted  it!  " 

Trent  stood  exactly  as  he  had  stood  from  the 
start,  motionless  as  an  inanimate  thing.  His  pose 
reflected  his  moral  attitude. 

"  Every  man  has  his  price,  sir,  I  hope  mine  is 
above  rubies,"  he  said  slowly,  at  last.  "  And  if 
we  did  try  to  get  along  without  each  other  and 
love,  and  did  what  you  call  '  play  the  game,'  and 
compromise  honesty  to  save  reputation,  which  you 
seem  to  think  the  more  valuable  of  the  two, —  the 
day  would  surely  come  when  we  could  not.  Our 
feeling  for  each  other  would  overpower  us.  And 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  WORLD         401 

we  should  not  sin  deliberately  or  intentionally,  but 
we  should  cease  to  care  about  anything,  and  cease 
to  consider  the  struggle  worth  while, —  and  fall 
into  each  other's  arms." 

"  Then,  all  the  more  you  must  go." 

The  door  opened  to  its  full  width  and  Raleigh 
Payne  stood  before  them. 

Randall  greeted  him  without  surprise.  He  had 
been  listening  a  full  half  hour  for  his  coming,  and 
counted  on  averting  the  impending  collision. 
Trent  stood  with  his  arms  folded.  He  bowed 
stiffly  to  the  introduction  informally  extended,  and 
Randall  saw  his  efforts  at  complete  conventionality 
threatened  by  this  unyielding  attitude  from  the 
start.  Raleigh,  who  had  never  seen  him  before, 
and  knew  him  only  on  hearsay,  was  entirely  lack 
ing  in  self-consciousness,  effusively  glad  to  reach 
Sky  High,  and  cordially  inclined  toward  all  the 
world,  until  the  singular  detachment,  almost  accu 
sation  of  Trent's  bearing,  impressed  him  as  insup 
portable  in  a  stranger.  He  dismissed  it  as  due  to 
some  previous  disagreement  between  the  two  other 
men,  which  he  had  unwittingly  interrupted. 

Under  different  circumstances  his  curiosity  might 
have  been  aroused.  The  annoyance  of  an  unfa 
miliar,  and  ungracious  presence  merely  obtruded 
itself  now,  preventing  any  unconstrained  inter 
change  of  news  or  question  with  his  uncle.  He 
much  preferred  a  few  hints  as  to  the  progress  of 


402  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

the  intervening  weeks,  and  Stephanie's  mood  of 
welcome  for  him,  before  he  appeared  before  her 
in  person.  He  had  his  own  reason  for  taking  her 
by  surprise.  His  impatience  increased  as  there 
seemed  to  be  no  hope  of  the  stranger's  departure. 
How  singularly  maladroit  of  his  uncle  it  was,  to 
detain  any  caller  beyond  the  definitely  declared 
hour  of  his  own  return! 

Trent  read  his  manner  perfectly.  He  was  gifted 
with  that  exquisite  breeding,  implying  acute  per 
ception  of  the  feeling  of  others.  He  was  aware 
of  his  own  lack  of  courtesy  in  remaining,  but  the 
small  change  of  courtesy  went  to  the  winds  under 
pressure  of  such  exigence  as  he  was  now  confront 
ing.  All  he  hoped  or  wanted,  was  to  prevent  this 
man  from  going  to  his  wife,  until  he  had  declared 
his  own  hand.  He  divined  how  she  dreaded  her 
husband's  return,  though  in  words  she  had  never 
betrayed  her  shrinking.  If  their  meeting  was  in 
evitable,  he  meant  it  to  take  place  with  his  own  re 
lation  to  them  both  definitely  defined.  He  looked 
for  a  possible  opening  for  what  he  waited  to  say, 
but  in  vain.  After  a  little  impersonal  comment  on 
the  mildness  of  the  season,  the  minor  vicissitudes 
of  the  journey  from  town,  a  message  from  Chris 
tine  and  Newbold,  no  one  was  anxious  to  prolong 
the  halting  effort  at  triangular  conversation. 

Raleigh,  frowning  his  dissatisfaction,  turned  to 
leave  the  room. 


403 

"  You  will  find  Stephanie  in  the  Eyrie,"  Ran 
dall  said.  Raleigh  nodded.  Something  in  the 
mere  assurance  of  his  so  taking  everything  for 
granted  made  Trent's  temper  rise  as  if  he  had 
been  struck. 

"  May  I  have  the  opportunity  for  a  few  words 
with  you,  Mr.  Payne,  before  I  leave  the  house?" 
he  asked  civilly  enough. 

Raleigh  glanced  at  Steven  Randall  for  explana 
tion,  but  Randall  disowned  responsibility. 

"  Did  you  mean  with  me  ?  "  he  asked,  "  or  with 
my  uncle  ?  " 

"  Yes,  with  you." 

"  With  pleasure, —  later  perhaps,"  Raleigh  re 
plied  indifferently,  his  hand  on  the  door.  "  I  shall 
be  here  several  days.  Look  me  up  to-morrow 
some  time." 

He  did  not  intend  to  be  insolent  or  exasperating. 
The  delay  simply  bored  him.  Trent's  mouth  hard 
ened.  "  I  prefer  not  to  wait  until  to-morrow,"  he 
said.  "  What  I  have  to  say  is  very  brief.  It  will 
detain  you  but  a  few  moments." 

"  I  took  it  your  business  was  with  my  uncle. 
What  can  I  do  for  you,  Mr.  Trent  ?  "  Raleigh  put 
the  question  without  a  suspicion  of  the  truth,  and 
Trent,  provoked  to  open  rancour  by  Grandee's  pa 
tronage  of  his  love,  and  affronted  by  Raleigh 
Payne's  easy  assumption  of  Stephanie  by  marital 
right,  declined  all  subterfuge  or  finesse,  and  did 


404  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

the  most  unexpected  and  worst  thing  he  could  pos 
sibly  have  done.  In  his  unworldly  determination 
to  prove  himself  a  man  equal  to  the  mettle  of  those 
before  him,  he  went  straight  at  Raleigh  with  the 
gloves  off. 

"  Mr  .Payne,"  he  began  without  preamble,  "  this 
is  a  hurried  and  brutal  age.  I  love  your  wife. 
What  are  you  willing  to  do  about  it  ?  " 

Diplomacy  was  never  so  confounded. 

But  Raleigh  was  one  to  dodge  an  issue  with  a 
light  foot.  It  was  his  profession.  He  smiled 
amiably  at  Trent,  as  if  thankful  there  was  nothing 
serious  in  the  air, —  nothing  of  real  moment  at 
stake. 

"  I  presume  we  shall  not  quarrel  on  a  subject 
where  our  tastes  are  so  identical,"  he  declared 
without  displeasure.  And  Grandee  broke  in  des 
perately  to  divert  Trent  from  the  "  faux  pas  "  he 
seemed  bent  on  making. 

"  Let  my  name  there,  as  Abou  Ben  Adhem's, 
'  lead  all  the  rest ' !  "  he  cried  fondly. 

But  Trent  undeterred  went  right  on  over  the 
brink  of  disclosure,  with  the  precision  of  a  trained 
mind  and  clear  head  bent  on  self-destruction. 

"  She  does  not  love  you.  Why  keep  up  the  farce 
any  longer?  And  why  keep  her  here  against  her 
will  ?  "  he  asked. 

Raleigh  looked  at  his  uncle  for  explanation,  or 
perhaps  confirmation  of  his  own  rationality.  But 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  WORLD         405 

there  was  none  awaiting  him.  Again  diplomacy 
had  been  confounded  by  a  direct  question.  The 
bare  truth  had  shamed  the  draped  statue  that  be 
lied  her  holiness,  and  Trent's  own  theory  of  the 
value  of  truth  reserved  for  great  service  only, 
most  nobly  vindicated. 

"  Well,  I  will  be  damned ! "  exclaimed  Steven 
Randall  and  left  the  room,  warned  by  the  pain  in 
his  heart  to  delay  no  longer.  He  had  just  strength 
enough  left  to  drag  himself  to  the  chair  in  the 
music  room  that  commanded  the  stairway.  He 
could  at  least  prevent  Stephanie's  intrusion  upon 
the  scene  he  felt  must  ensue.  Beyond  that  slight 
service  he  could  do  no  more  for  her  now.  The 
pain  was  too  sharp.  Left  alone  together,  the  two 
men  stood  more  curious  to  discover  each  other 
than  to  open  the  attack,  or  take  advantage  of  the 
first  blow. 

"  Let  me  explain,"  Trent  began  coldly. 

"  It  might  be  as  well,"  Raleigh  said  with  an  in 
clination  of  his  head,  giving  him  the  right  of  a 
hearing. 

"  You  do  not  know  how  to  love  a  woman.  It  is 
not  as  if  that  lack  in  you  was  a  sin.  If  it  was,  you 
could  fall  and  repent  and  be  absolved.  A  sin  could 
be  washed  out,  but  your  inherent  passion  for  place 
and  power  can  never  be  eradicated  from  your 
moral  nature,  because  you  treat  it  as  a  virtue. 
You  consider  what  is  really  your  worst  weakness, 


406  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

strength.  You  left  this  woman, —  of  all  women! 
alone.  You  know  what  else  you  did,  and  did  not 
do,  far  better  than  I.  I  can  only  guess.  I  am  a 
man  too.  What  else  did  you  expect?  Grandee 
has  reflected  it  all  in  his  letters  of  course.  He  is 
not  blind.  You  did  not  care.  You  underestimated 
us  both.  You  were  so  sure  of  yourself  that  you 
counted  on  doing  as  you  liked  with  us  when  you 
were  ready.  You  might  have  succeeded  with  a 
woman.  But  it  is  another  proposition  when  you 
run  up  against  a  man.  And  a  man  with  a  will 
that  matches  your  own.  I  do  not  care  to  prolong 
this  discussion,  or  go  into  general  principles. 
All  I  want  to  know  is  whether  you  will  meet 
us  half  way,  or  if  we  must  prepare  to  do 
what  is  necessary  for  our  own  happiness  our 
selves." 

Raleigh  rang  and  ordered  a  cup  of  tea.  He 
was  minutely  concerned  as  to  the  amount  of  sugar 
he  measured  out  for  himself,  and  coloured  the  cup 
he  poured  with  a  careful  eye. 

"  As  I  have  been  from  home  some  time,  Mr. 
—  Trent,"  he  suggested,  "  probably  you  will  be 
good  enough  to  defer  this  interview, —  at  least 
till  I  have  seen  Mrs.  Payne." 

"  She  will  not  see  you.     She  cannot." 

"  A  husband  has  certain  rights,  as  perhaps  you 
know."  There  was  iron  under  the  suavity  of  Ra 
leigh's  voice  as  he  said  it. 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  WORLD         407 

"  And  a  woman  has  certain  instincts,"  Trent  in 
serted. 

"  I  am  going  to  have  my  tea  now,"  Raleigh  re 
marked,  angry  at  last.  "'We  will  consider  this 
rather  impossible  interview  over,  if  you  please.  I 
shall  ask  my  uncle  to  see  that  it  is  never  re-opened 
or  your  visits  continued,  during  our  short  stay 
beneath  his  roof.  Good-afternoon." 

Trent's  dogged  lips,  thin  and  proud  clenched  to 
his  purpose.  He  did  not  abate  his  insulting  calm. 
He  did  not  move. 

"  In  questions  of  life  and  death  a  man  does  not 
stop  to  consider  arbitrary  trifles,"  he  said,  dis 
missing  the  facts  of  travel-stains  and  hunger  su 
perbly.  "  It  is  nothing  to  me  when  you  have  a 
cup  of  tea,  or  how  long  you  have  been  gone. 
There  is  nothing  of  importance  between  us  but  the 
one  vital  issue.  I  tell  you  I  love  your  wife." 

Once  more  the  diplomat  in  Raleigh  triumphed. 
He  resisted  the  temptation  to  strike,  and  smiled 
instead.  "  And  my  reply  is,  as  before,  of  course 
you  do!  Why  should  we  even  pretend  to  quarrel 
about  it  ? "  Raleigh  extended  his  hand  as  he 
spoke. 

Trent  flushed  painfully  under  the  ignominy  of 
such  treatment,  the  insufferable  patronage  of  the 
action.  Men  feel  the  same  who  are  refused  hon 
ourable  satisfaction.  He  turned  sharply  to  leave 
the  room  as  if  to  restrain  himself  from  delivering 


408  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

a  physical  blow.  Something  in  the  set  of  his  shoul 
ders  suggested  not  retreat,  but  immediate  attack 
in  a  new  quarter.  Raleigh  thought  rapidly.  He 
had  no  wish  to  have  Stephanie  summoned  to  such 
an  unbecoming  complication.  There  was  respect 
now,  in  the  recall  he  offered,  as  he  enquired, — 
"  Have  you  considered  to  what  your  remarks  lead  ? 
May  I  ask?" 

"  If  I  had  not,  Mr.  Randall  has  at  least  pointed 
out  their  conclusion  with  a  sufficient  clearness." 

Again  the  diplomat  played  off  and  again  Trent's 
blunt  resistance  foiled  the  more  skilful  defence. 

"  I  should  like  also  to  ask,  since  you  force  so 
crass  an  issue  upon  me,  without  delay,  or  I  may 
even  say  decency, —  what  is  your  own  proposition 
in  all  this  vague  statement  and  accusation  of  my 
married  responsibilities?  Let  us  presume  for  the 
moment  that  I  allowed  you  to  carry  out  your  pro 
posed  invasion  of  my  family  life,  where  would  you 
intend  to  live?  How  would  you  intend  to  support 
a  woman?  Mrs.  Payne,  unlike  most  foreign 
women,  was  married  without  a  '  dot.'  Had  you 
been  kept  in  ignorance  of  that  sordid  detail?  Or 
have  you  sufficient  means  to  support  the  extrava 
gant  necessities  of  an  idle  woman  bred  to  lux 
ury?" 

The  tea  service  stood  untouched  where  the  serv 
ant  had  placed  it  half  an  hour  ago.  Their  voices 
rose  and  fell  upon  Grandee's  agonised  ears  for 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  WORLD         409 

what  seemed  an  endless  time.  And  not  until  Trent 
hit  upon  the  secret  spring  of  Father  Mayhew  did 
Raleigh  Payne  consider  it  all  more  serious  than 
a  theatrical  tilt  with  tin  weapons. 

"  You  act  as  if  you  were  talking  to  a  criminal, 
as  if  I  had  forbidden  .religion  and  you  were  a 
knight  to  the  rescue  instead  of  a  lover  hot  for  se 
duction  ! "  Raleigh  threw  at  him,  exasperated  by 
his  manner  at  last. 

"  The  location  of  the  crusades  to-day  is  changed, 
the  heart  of  chivalry  is  not  dead."  Trent,  assured 
by  his  adversary's  discomfiture  was  growing 
momently  cooler.  "  Chivalry  has  no  era,"  he 
added. 

Raleigh  saw  his  disadvantage  and  attempted  to 
hide  it. 

"  You  are  excited  now.  You  do  not  know  ex 
actly  what  you  are,  or  what  anything  else  is. 
There  is  really  nothing  so  new  and  distinctive 
about  being  made  a  fool  of  by  a  pretty  woman, 
even  if  she  is  another  man's  wife.  That  is  old  too. 
Leave  the  priest  out  of  it,  since  you  are  not  her 
husband;  but  since  religion  is  so  sacred  to  you, 
turn  your  attention  to  the  teaching  of  the  church 
as  to  the  seven  deadly  sins.  Priests  and  husbands 
have  never  been  appreciative  of  each  other.  That 
scandal  also  lacks  in  originality." 

"  I  am  ready  to  leave  all  out  of  it  but  the  woman 
I  love,  and  am  bound  to,  by  her  own  admission  of 


410  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

love  for  me.  I  only  wanted  to  put  myself  clear 
before  you  at  the  start.  I  have  done  that.  I  will 
not  detain  you  longer." 

"  You  intend  to  leave  it  there  ?  " 

"  I  know  what  I  intend.  I  have  done  what  I 
could  to  make  you  see  it  in  its  right  light.  I  can 
do  no  more  for  you." 

Raleigh  Payne  recognised  the  mettle  of  the  man 
at  last.  He  let  him  get  to  the  door  before  he 
asked  roughly: 

"  Do  you  want  to  ruin  yourself  then  for  a 
woman  who  has  belonged  to  two  men  before  you? 
That  is  the  question." 

Trent  stared  at  him.  Raleigh  came  a  few  steps 
nearer,  as  if  suddenly  they  were  leagued  together, 
as  men,  against  all  women  in  all  the  world  since 
time  began.  "  If  I  told  you,  that  I  of  all  men, 
have  most  cause  to  complain?  If  I  told  you  that 
the  woman  who  betrayed  Nicholas  Heathleagh,  and 
sent  him  out  of  life  from  his  disgust  of  all  her 
kind, —  the  woman  who  had  in  his  own  last  words, 
'  been  everything  to  him/  was  none  other  than  the 
Austrian  Countess  Marie  Louise  Graubach  von 
Lichtenberg  ?  Whose  husband  I  now  have  the  hon 
our  to  be  ?  " 

"  You  lie,  he  lied,  you  cannot  prove  it ! " 
Trent's  words  dashed  as  consecutive  defence. 

"  I  am  not  lying  and  I  do  not  think  he  was. 
Dying  men  do  not  as  a  rule.  The  game  is  played 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  WORLD         411 

out  for  them.     As  least  as  far  as  women  go,"  said 
Raleigh  soberly,  without  heat. 

Trent  was  more  crushed  by  the  matter  of  fact 
statement  than  he  could  have  been  by  any  oratory. 
The  fires  of  life,  that  a  moment  before  had  blazed 
up  about  his  transfiguring  Stephanie,  and  the  sub 
lime  sacrifice  she  was  ready  to  make  for  him,  sank 
to  black  and  grey. 

"  She  loves  me,"  he  repeated  obstinately  as  a 
child. 

"  And  if  she  does  say  that  she  loves  you  to 
day  — "  continued  her  husband,  "  what  assurance 
have  you  that  it  will  not  to-morrow  be  some  more 
brilliant  man,  or  one  of  more  brilliant  prospects? 
What  assurance  is  there  ever  in  the  love  of  a  light 
woman,  so  called?  The  experience,  sad  as  it  is, 
will  not  perhaps  hurt  you  in  the  world,  after  it 
has  blown  over,  if  you  take  her  away  from  our  pro^ 
tection  now.  But  it  will  do  things  to  your  own 
nature,  you  will  never  wholly  get  over.  For  a 
man  to  have  been  briefly  the  transient  lover  of  a 
beautiful  woman,  is  not  the  same  as  for  a  woman 
to  have  been  the  mistress  of  a  gifted  man, —  such 
as  you  undoubtedly  are,  Mr.  Trent,  on  hearsay  at 
least.  In  the  end  it  will  be  slurred  over  in  you, 
but  it  will  ruin  her  of  course.  Those  women  go 
down  with  incredible  swiftness.  Men  will  say  of 
me  that  I  was  patient,  and  she  was  a  fool,  or  worse. 
I  married  her  without  dowry,  an  Austrian  of  the 


412  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

aristocracy.  You  can  be  sure  she  was  not  flaw 
less,  or  that  would  never  have  happened  at  Vienna, 
of  all  courts  in  Europe  the  most  exclusive.  If  you 
would  like  to  assure  yourself  of  the  truth  of  this 
statement,  you  can  have  the  address  of  Mrs. 
Payne's  grandmother,  who  signed  the  contract  and 
permitted  the  mesalliance.  For  such  it  was  to  her 
and  she  was  at  no  pains  to  conceal  it." 

Trent  waived  the  notion  aside  as  base.  Raleigh 
went  on  swiftly: 

"  Leave  her,  and  I  will  keep  her  pitiful  secret 
as  I  have.  But  make  me  a  target  of  scandal  now, 
expose  me  to  the  tongues  of  my  enemies  ever  so 
slightly  just  now,  and  I  will  reveal  your  dishonour 
and  her  secret  that  my  silence  has  shielded,  the 
pity  of  her  shame.  Her  word,  against  mine,  the 
word  of  a  woman  who  has  slipped  once,  and  again 
betrayed  her  husband,  will  be  given  no  credence 
in  America." 

Even  as  he  spoke  Trent  felt  the  crumbling  of 
his  dearest  certainties.  It  was  preposterous,  it 
was  not  subtle,  it  was  not  diplomacy.  It  was  all 
that  lies  at  the  roots  of  a  man, —  his  jealousy  of 
another,  that  had  goaded  Raleigh  Payne  to  such 
a  pass. 

"  It  is  a  lie,"  Trent  reiterated,  outwardly  un 
shaken.  "  It  is  a  lie  and  I  will  prove  it.  I  swear 
to  God  I  will!" 

"  I  only  wish  to  God  you  could !  "  Raleigh  cov- 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  WORLD         413 

ered  his  eyes  with  his  hands  as  he  said  it.  The 
genuineness  of  his  cry  was  undoubted.  It  was  the 
outcome  of  long  inward  debate  and  tortured  query. 
When  he  again  lowered  his  hands  and  opened  his 
eyes,  the  room  was  empty.  Trent  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

AN  ISSUE  EVADED 

HALF     an    hour    later     Stephanie     stood 
alone   before   the   Squirrel's    Nest.     She 
had  followed  Trent  blindly.     During  all 
that  hour  of  calm,  while  the  tempest  had  swept 
over  her,  and  the  three  men  had  disposed  of  her 
fate  to  their  various  liking,  without  consulting  her, 
she  had  asked  herself  if  it  was  really  true? 

If  her  grandmother's  interfering  manipulation 
of  her  life  had  been  in  vain,  and  if  her  feeling  for 
Trent  was  imperative  enough  to  compensate  for 
the  luxury  and  worldly  consideration  to  be  fore 
gone  for  his  sake?  When  a  negative  tempted  her, 
simultaneously  came  its  reaction,  and  as  a  sick  per 
son  sinks  back  languidly  upon  supporting  pillows 
her  inclination  sank  back,  and  clung  desperately 
to  his  image.  It  was  a  malady  of  reason,  her  love. 
It  had  taken  pitiless  possession  of  her.  She  could 
not,  for  she  would  not,  fight  it  off.  She  had  al 
ways  recognised  that  a  supreme  passion  would  be 
her  fatal  enemy  against  reason  struggling  in  oppo 
sition.  To  her  there  was  no  law,  no  goal  beyond 
love.  And  there  was  no  restraint  she  would  im 
pose  between  herself  and  its  realisation.  A  daugh- 

414 


AN  ISSUE  EVADED  415 

ter  of  the  Greeks,  believing  her  cult  to  be  worship, 
glorying  in  her  power  to  incite  and  bestow  where 
other  women,  bent  to  modern  standards,  shrank 
back  from  lesser  motives  of  shame  or  self-protec 
tion.  There  was  no  slight  recollection  of  Trent's 
touch  but  set  her  vibrating  like  tense  strings  of  an 
Amati,  swept  shuddering  by  a  master  hand.  She 
was  his  by  his  control  of  her  senses,  however  men 
might  militate  against  the  fact  or  its  external  con 
clusion.  Since  she  was  his, —  the  rest  followed; 
to  her  it  did  not  matter  to  what  precise  end.  Trent 
was  in  himself  the  only  conceivable  end  to  her. 
They  might  talk  to  her  of  going  away  with  Raleigh, 
paint  the  charm  of  new  scenes,  new  faces  in  sit 
uations  to  breed  new  excitements, —  but  no!  The 
poison  was  in  her  veins.  It  was  too  late  for  their 
mild  antidotes  of  compromise.  Not  one  of  them 
could  drive  this  delicious  stupor  from  her  will, 
or  counteract  the  intoxication  of  his  power  over 
her.  From  his  own  lips  she  had  drained  the  un 
nerving  potion  that  was  already  working  its  spell 
upon  brain  and  heart  alike.  If  her  soul  ques 
tioned, —  Trent's  eyes  answered,  deep  in  hers.  If 
its  worth  balanced  for  an  instant  waveringly 
against  the  wilful  squandering  of  luxury  and 
worldly  esteem, —  Trent's  arms  in  imagination  held 
her  so  close  that  the  beating  of  his  heart  made  her 
forget  her  own.  Did  she  love  him?  Instantly  his 
mouth,  like  flame  upon  her  own,  burned  the  answer 


416  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

with  the  question.  She  had  busied  herself  by  put 
ting  on  a  long  white  gown.  She  associated  it 
vaguely  with  marriage  or  a  shroud.  The  ghastly 
alternative  fitted  her  mood  without  too  much  of  a 
shock.  When  Raleigh  had  come  up  to  her  there, 
she  had  permitted  him  to  kiss  her,  perfunctorily, 
all  the  while  trying  to  draw  some  conclusion  from 
his  manner  as  to  the  outcome  of  these  long  inter 
views  in  the  library  below.  And  he  had  been  kind 
and  hearty,  and  patted  her  between  her  shoulders 
as  usual  after  a  long  absence,  and  after  a  few  ex 
pressions  of  interest  in  her  splendid  appearance  of 
health,  and  a  few  allusions  to  his  own  improve 
ment,  had  excused  himself  to  dress  for  dinner.  He 
had  promised  her  that  he  would  not  keep  Grandee 
waiting,  an  allusion  to  his  pet  crochet,  although 
he  professed  to  have  quite  forgotten  how  to  wear 
evening  clothes  in  his  savagery,  up  in  the  North 
Woods. 

And  the  instant  he  had  gone,  she  realised  how 
cold  she  was,  and  catching  up  the  long  fur  coat 
she  had  meant  to  wear  to  New  York  earlier  in  the 
afternoon, —  or  some  afternoon  long  ago, —  she 
had  left  the  house  and  fled  into  the  little  strip  of 
forest,  without  any  definite  plan  or  destination. 
She  wanted  to  get  away, —  just  not  to  have  Ra 
leigh  touch  her  and  make  her  turn  so  cold  and  sick 
again.  That  was  all.  The  December  moonlight 
made  the  frozen  ground  ugly,  for  there  had  not 


AN  ISSUE  EVADED  417 

been  any  snow  that  lasted  under  the  trees,  and  the 
windy  forest  was  alive  with  nervous  shadows  that 
flickered  and  startled  her.  She  walked  about  idly, 
holding  her  long  skirt  in  one  gloveless  hand,  and 
with  the  other  pushing  back  the  branches  that  op 
posed  her  as  she  threaded  the  thicket  beyond  the 
half  worn  trail.  She  found  herself  before  the 
empty  house  where  the  bachelors  had  so  recently 
dreamed  and  feasted,  appalled  by  its  emptiness  and 
significant  desolation. 

Her  feet  had  brought  her  unfailingly,  without 
guidance  from  her  will.  In  her  distraction,  she 
had  never  considered  the  possibility  of  Trent's  ac 
cepting  her  husband's  dismissal,  or  treating  it  as 
coincident  with  her  own,  or  Grandee's,  or  that  of 
any  one,  or  any  train  of  refuting  circumstances, 
until  she  herself  bade  him  leave  her. 

She  had  reckoned  only  with  her  own  love.  She 
had  staked  her  all  on  the  vague  hope  of  overtaking 
him  here  and  he  had  failed  her.  How  had  Raleigh 
and  Grandee  done  this  thing?  What  lie  had  made 
him  hold  her  less  dear  ?  What  fear  of  the  world  in 
sinuatingly  presented  had  turned  him  craven  ?  There 
flashed  before  her  the  hours  that  would  drag  their 
accustomed  round  and  never  bring  him  back.  The 
pitiless  spring  mornings  and  balmy  summer  nights, 
and  worst  of  all  the  afternoons  of  the  first  snow 
upon  forest  and  garden, —  when  they  had  not 
cared !  They  two  in  the  crimson  library,  with  blaz- 


4i8  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

ing  logs  and  the  solitude  of  friendly  books  and  his 
favourite  pipe  for  the  last  note  of  indoor  intimacy. 
The  first  snow  would  be  torment  to  her  hence 
forth.  Then  suspicion  caught  her.  Had  he  never 
meant  more  than  a  Platonic  idling,  perhaps?  Had 
he  but  treated  her  to  a  private  performance  of 
some  romance  of  chivalry, —  read  her  a  chapter 
from  some  unreal  poem  of  idealism?  He  had  no 
conception  of  a  devastating  passion  perhaps.  He 
too,  was  cold  and  calculating  like  all  the  rest  of 
these  emigrant  Americans,  struggling  to  rise  in  the 
social  scale.  He  had  amused  himself  in  his  own 
refined  and  peculiarly  scholarly  fashion,  as  unhesi 
tatingly  as  any  other  man  might  have  done  on  the 
lower  levels.  He  had  taken  what  he  enjoyed  while 
it  was  easily  within  reach,  and  then  gone  without 
the  least  effort  to  see  her  or  indulge  himself  in  so 
much  as  a  last  scene  of  recklessly  impassioned  part 
ing.  He  had  heard  what  Grandee  had  to  say  of 
worldly  philosophy,  let  himself  be  persuaded  and 
gone.  If  he  had  met  Raleigh,  it  had  probably  been 
a  mere  form  of  pantomime  between  them.  If  he 
had  so  little  spirit,  it  must  have  been  easy  indeed 
for  Raleigh  Payne  to  ignore,  and  brush  aside  in 
his  grand  manner,  any  hint  of  lurking  issues  be 
neath  the  surface,  on  which  his  own  triumphant 
face  was  always  reflected.  Raleigh  would  never 
admit  to  himself  even,  that  there  could  possibly  ex 
ist  an  indiscretion  in  the  attitude  of  his  wife, — 


AN  ISSUE  EVADED  419 

much  less  toward  a  young  scholar,  unversed  in  glit 
tering  guile,  who  was  put  in  his  place  once  for  all 
by  a  chance  truism  or  two  from  his  more  worldly 
seniors.  The  train  called  long  and  shrill  from  the 
crossing.  It  pierced  her  by  association.  How 
easy  to  end  it  all  there!  She  glanced  down  over 
her  white  dress.  It  would  be  torn  and  disgust 
ingly  stained  when  they  found  her.  No,  suicide 
was  too  one-sided.  Life  still  held  for  her  the  suit 
able  award  for  Raleigh,  and  scorn  of  the  man  she 
loved.  These  were  left  her.  She  still  had  "  affairs  " 
with  existence.  Oh,  might  life  only  be  long 
enough  to  make  Trent  suffer  as  she  was  suffering 
now!  She  was  glad  she  had  fled  on  her  first  hot 
impulse.  What  if  she  had  waited,  boasted  of  her 
lover,  confessing  herself  unfitted  for  life  with  a 
husband  she  could  not  love,  imploring  to  be  set 
free!  Raleigh  knew  nothing  yet.  His  name  and 
fame  were  hers  safely  still.  They  were  hers  to 
use  in  inflicting  what  pain  she  chose  upon  the 
other  man,  who  had  abandoned  her  in  her  extrem 
ity  of  indecision.  She  would  go  home.  She 
knew  what  her  role  was  now.  There  would  be  no 
more  vacillation  with  expediency.  The  pride  of 
the  old  Countess  was  in  her.  Blood  should  tell ! 

At  this  moment  the  door  of  the  perfectly  dark 
house  opened  and  Trent,  bag  in  hand  stepped  out 
into  the  haggard  moonlight.  The  world  lay  calm 
as  if  after  the  funeral  of  a  great  hope,  a  lovely 


420  THE  SIN  OF  'ANGELS 

summer,  or  the  passing  of  some  dearest  soul. 
The  reaction  of  his  presence  made  Stephanie 
dizzy.  She  clung  to  the  wall  for  support  and 
stumbling  forward,  slipped  by  him  into  the  hall 
way  of  the  house.  Trent  stood  staring  at  her  as 
if  a  victim  of  hallucination.  He  made  no  sign  of 
greeting,  no  motion  of  re-entering  himself,  any 
more  than  if  she  had  been  a  supernatural  mani 
festation.  She  supposed  him  transfixed  with  the 
audacity  of  her  coming  there,  the  wonder  of  her 
intention,  or  the  unreality  of  her  in  her  long  white 
dinner  gown,  as  she  tore  open  her  fur  to  give  her 
cramped  breast  more  air.  Since  he  did  not  move 
she  came  closer  to  him,  but  still  he  made  no  sign. 
A  moonbeam  on  his  face  revealed  it  hard  beyond 
any  face  ever  turned  upon  her.  He  was  going  to 
play  the  saint  with  her,  then!  So,  she  was  to  be 
shown  that  she  was  on  suffrance  here,  at  this  hour, 
alone,  a  married  woman.  Bah!  This  was  an  ex 
hibition  of  the  vaunted  honour  of  the  great  Ameri 
can  man !  It  was  a  trifle  late,  since  he  had  sinned. 
—  if  par  example,  love  was  a  sin, —  and  his  re 
pentance  on  discovery  impressed  her  as  too  Cath 
olic  to  be  convincing.  She  had  so  often  captivated 
him  to  her  caprice,  was  it  likely  a  mere  scruple, 
even  a  possible  promise  to  Grandee,  would  enable 
him  to  resist  her  now?  Now,  when  he  was  life 
and  death  to  her?  Now,  when  by  his  obstinacy  he 
was  rousing  her  as  he  had  never  done  in  his  clear- 


AN  ISSUE  EVADED  421 

est  devotion?  There  was  no  ambiguity  in  her  de 
cision  now  as  she  came  so  close  to  him  her  breath 
was  sweet  in  his,  and  raised  a  beseeching  face. 
He  was  iron  before  her,  though  he  shut  his  eyes 
too  hastily;  shut  her  out  with  the  temptation  she 
presented  his  weakness. 

With  a  cry  she  threw  herself  upon  him, —  and 
he  stood,  as  a  cliff  before  a  breaker  doomed  to  be 
cast  back  into  the  maelstrom  from  which  it  has 
lifted  itself  for  the  mighty  effort  of  assault. 

In  an  access  of  despairing  bewilderment  she 
lavished  her  kisses  upon  his  hair,  his  eyes, —  not 
his  lips  for  he  turned  them  from  her  with  decision, 
if  not  repulsion.  Then  laying  her  ungloved  hands 
shaking  with  the  cold,  upon  his  shoulders,  she  be 
gan  her  incoherent  protestations,  half  in  French, 
half  in  English.  .r ^ 

"  Listen  only,  my  adored  one.  You  have  let  all 
the  others  speak  for  Stephanie.  But  she  has  come 
to  speak  for  herself.  They  have  wounded  you 
with  their  stupid  fear  of  the  world,  and  tempted 
you  by  the  rewards  that  tempt  egoistic  natures  like 
their  own.  They  are  two,  and  the  woman  they 
have  disposed  of  to  their  content  was  one,  and  not 
permitted  to  be  heard.  But  I  tell  you  I  love  you! 
I  am  yours  as  you  swore  you  were  mine.  Do  what 
you  like  with  me.  I  will  never  live  with  Raleigh 
Payne  again.  To  live  with  one  man  for  sake  of 
another  —  that  is  a  final  blasphemy  against  the 


422  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

Holy  Spirit  within  me  of  which  I  am  not  capable. 
I  am  yours.  Je  t'aime,  je  t'adore!  Tu  sais  bien 
comme  j'existe  seulement  pour  toil  " 

Trent  was  a  statue  of  marble  stolidity  before 
her.  She  gave  a  quick  shrug  of  comprehension. 
He  was  saving  her  from  herself,  naturally. 

"  Once  more,  listen,  my  Bien  aime,  these  are  on 
my  part  what  they  are  pleased  to  promise  me  in 
exchange  for  a  loveless  life, —  to  me,  Stephanie, 
who  knows  only  how  to  love  and  was  created  for 
that  end  only.  They  offer  me  first, —  respectabil 
ity.  To  run  the  risk  of  being  declassed  in  their 
disordered  country,  without  a  nobility  or  aris 
tocracy,  seems  to  them  a  calamity  for  an  Austrian 
Countess!  What  can  it  mean  to  me?  And  after, 
they  promise  me  dull,  beautiful,  weary  days,  a 
routine  of  glittering  loneliness,  eternal  engagements 
distasteful  to  me,  none  of  them  gay  or  sweet.  If 
this  does  not  suffice,  I  am  assured  of  a  public  part 
to  play  at  your  government's  seat,  and  always  a 
starving  heart!  No  —  let  Raleigh  Payne  take  his 
public  to  wife.  I  refuse  that  form  of  married  in 
fidelity.  It  is  too  bloodless.  Compare  it  with  the 
little,  hidden,  simple  days  of  perfect  happiness  to 
gether."  Her  voice  broke.  She  felt  herself  fail 
ing,  sickened  by  all  lack  of  response. 

"  You  kill  me," —  she  whispered  hoarsely. 
"  Only  for  the  love  of  anything  you  hold  sacred  do 
it  completely.  Do  your  work  to  the  end!  Finish 


AN  ISSUE  EVADED  423 

it,  do  not  leave  it  to  others  whose  hands  are  sac 
rilege!" 

He  had  to  hold  her  then,  for  she  tottered  help 
lessly,  all  against  her  will.  Life  seemed  to  have 
gone  out  in  her  pale  body, —  with  hope.  He  drew 
her  inside,  and  seated  her  upon  the  wooden  settle 
beside  the  empty  fireplace  where  only  the  witless 
moonbeams  lit  the  melancholy  ashes.  Again  she 
made  one  spent  effort  toward  him,  lifting  her  lips 
meek  and  passionate.  But  he  saw  them  not.  His 
was,  he  supposed,  the  madness  that  had  driven 
that  other  man  out  of  life  before  him.  Her  hus 
band  had  said  so.  Her  husband  was  a  man  of 
honour.  Trent  saw  her  now  as  she  must  have 
looked  upon  that  first  man's  breast,  their  arms  in 
terlaced.  He  bade  himself  recall  the  embraces  that 
shamed  an  honest  memory  to  recall,  that  had 
ploughed  their  searing  remembrance  deep  in  the  soul 
of  that  noble  husband,  who  had  kept  silence  until 
it  became  the  price  of  another  man's  escape,  and 
then  been  brave  enough  to  speak  and  trust  the  is 
sue  to  another  man's  discretion  and  just  estimate 
of  her  worth.  The  thought  turned  him  to  steel. 
His  desire  for  her  was  brutal  as  his  rage  with  her 
for  deceiving  him  was  disdainful.  If  he  took  her 
now,  he  should  lose  respect  for  himself  forever. 
If  he  let  her  undermine  him  now,  knowing  her  un- 
worthiness,  it  would  be  nothing  less  than  to  stamp 
their  relation  beyond  hope  of  redemption.  It 


422  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

Holy  Spirit  within  me  of  which  I  am  not  capable. 
I  am  yours.  Je  t'aime,  je  t'adore!  Tu  sais  bien 
comme  j'existe  seulement  pour  toi!  " 

Trent  was  a  statue  of  marble  stolidity  before 
her.  She  gave  a  quick  shrug  of  comprehension. 
He  was  saving  her  from  herself,  naturally. 

"Once  more,  listen,  my  Bien  aime,  these  are  on 
my  part  what  they  are  pleased  to  promise  me  in 
exchange  for  a  loveless  life, —  to  me,  Stephanie, 
who  knows  only  how  to  love  and  was  created  for 
that  end  only.  They  offer  me  first, —  respectabil 
ity.  To  run  the  risk  of  being  declassed  in  their 
disordered  country,  without  a  nobility  or  aris 
tocracy,  seems  to  them  a  calamity  for  an  Austrian 
Countess!  What  can  it  mean  to  me?  And  after, 
they  promise  me  dull,  beautiful,  weary  days,  a 
routine  of  glittering  loneliness,  eternal  engagements 
distasteful  to  me,  none  of  them  gay  or  sweet.  If 
this  does  not  suffice,  I  am  assured  of  a  public  part 
to  play  at  your  government's  seat,  and  always  a 
starving  heart!  No  —  let  Raleigh  Payne  take  his 
public  to  wife.  I  refuse  that  form  of  married  in 
fidelity.  It  is  too  bloodless.  Compare  it  with  the 
little,  hidden,  simple  days  of  perfect  happiness  to 
gether."  Her  voice  broke.  She  felt  herself  fail 
ing,  sickened  by  all  lack  of  response. 

"  You  kill  me," —  she  whispered  hoarsely. 
"  Only  for  the  love  of  anything  you  hold  sacred  do 
it  completely.  Do  your  work  to  the  end!  Finish 


AN  ISSUE  EVADED  423 

it,  do  not  leave  it  to  others  whose  hands  are  sac 
rilege!" 

He  had  to  hold  her  then,  for  she  tottered  help 
lessly,  all  against  her  will.  Life  seemed  to  have 
gone  out  in  her  pale  body, —  with  hope.  He  drew 
her  inside,  and  seated  her  upon  the  wooden  settle 
beside  the  empty  fireplace  where  only  the  witless 
moonbeams  lit  the  melancholy  ashes.  Again  she 
made  one  spent  effort  toward  him,  lifting  her  lips 
meek  and  passionate.  But  he  saw  them  not.  His 
was,  he  supposed,  the  madness  that  had  driven 
that  other  man  out  of  life  before  him.  Her  hus 
band  had  said  so.  Her  husband  was  a  man  of 
honour.  Trent  saw  her  now  as  she  must  have 
looked  upon  that  first  man's  breast,  their  arms  in 
terlaced.  He  bade  himself  recall  the  embraces  that 
shamed  an  honest  memory  to  recall,  that  had 
ploughed  their  searing  remembrance  deep  in  the  soul 
of  that  noble  husband,  who  had  kept  silence  until 
it  became  the  price  of  another  man's  escape,  and 
then  been  brave  enough  to  speak  and  trust  the  is 
sue  to  another  man's  discretion  and  just  estimate 
of  her  worth.  The  thought  turned  him  to  steel. 
His  desire  for  her  was  brutal  as  his  rage  with  her 
for  deceiving  him  was  disdainful.  If  he  took  her 
now,  he  should  lose  respect  for  himself  forever. 
If  he  let  her  undermine  him  now,  knowing  her  un- 
worthiness,  it  would  be  nothing  less  than  to  stamp 
their  relation  beyond  hope  of  redemption.  It 


424  THE  SIN  OF  'ANGELS 

would  make  her  —  what  he  could  not  name, —  and 
himself  an  outcast  from  all  his  traditions.  If  he 
touched  her  now,  it  would  be  the  same  as  the 
spring  of  the  untamed  beast  for  its  prey.  He 
should  hurt  her.  He  wanted  to  hurt  her.  He  so 
hated  her  and  so  loved  her!  He  held  himself  in 
check  in  sheer  terror  of  himself,  this  new,  un 
known,  strange  self.  Conflicting  emotions,  reso 
lutions,  longings  laid  a  pall  upon  him,  benumbing 
his  confused  desires.  There  was  blood  on  her 
soul,  if  not  on  his  hands.  There  was  sin  between 
them,  or  at  least  the  foreshadowing  of  sin,  in  evil 
anticipation  of  each  other.  She  had  deceived  each 
one  of  the  three  men  who  had  adored  her.  He 
had  her  husband's  word  for  it,  the  admission  wrung 
from  him  to  save  her  from  further  downfall. 
Trent  swore  that  he  hated  her.  Yet  he  was  sure 
her  touch  would  destroy  both  his  hate  and  him. 
He  was  lost  or  saved  by  this  half  hour's  work  of 
endurance.  The  husband  had  sacrificed  himself  to 
save  him.  She  was  a  creature  of  any  man's  love, 
lucky  to  find  so  magnanimous  a  shelter  as  Raleigh 
Payne.  Then  the  moonlight  through  the  unclosed 
door  reached  her,  where  she  sat  huddled  in  his 
contempt.  Her  head  was  thrown  back  as  if  to 
make  breathing  less  irksome,  her  hands  fell  limply 
beside  her  with  the  soft  palms  open  in  their  touch 
ing  helplessness.  The  advancing  moonbeam  re 
vealed  her  every  perfection,  offered  her  to  him 


AN  ISSUE  EVADED  425 

without  reserve,  and  he  felt  reason  swerve  from 
the  spur  of  wild  instinct.  He  looked  at  her,  com 
pelled  by  her  beauty,  transfigured  by  the  passion 
he  had  roused. 

What  if  he  were  to  shut  that  door  on  the  world? 
What  if  he  lit  a  blaze  at  her  feet,  and  took  her  to 
him  forever?  What  was  anything  any  more,  but 
to  feel  the  every  curve  of  her  unresisting  body 
melting  to  his  own!  To  let  his  clenched  hands 
seek  and  find  the  joy  they  craved, —  to  give  him 
self  blindly  to  the  innate  something,  for  whose  sat 
isfaction  man  is  made,  in  defiance  of  any  super- 
artificial  creed  or  code!  A  spasm  shook  him. 
Principle  died  hard.  She  was  panting  now,  still 
speechless,  but  radiant  with  a  smile  that  knew 
she  and  the  lower  impulse  had  won  him  against 
fearful  odds  of  the  spirit.  Paler  than  the  moon 
light  she  smiled  her  unresisting  smile  at  him. 
Whatever  had  snatched  him  from  her,  whatever 
unknown  odds  had  been  against  her,  she  had  pre 
vailed.  He  was  still  hers.  Hell  and  heaven  were 
flinging  wide  their  gates  with  equal  plausibility. 
While  Trent  stood  worsted,  giving  himself  to  her 
first  in  that  distracted,  ecstatic  gaze,  in  the  long  mo 
ment  that  was  to  be  the  last  before  he  snatched  her 
to  him  forever,  a  shadow  fell  across  the  band  of 
moonlight  at  her  feet  and  her  husband  was  upon 
the  threshold. 

With  a  glance  that  covered  his  wife  and  at  the 


426  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

same  time  exonerated  Trent,  he  exclaimed  with  a 
sigh  of  relief: 

"  What  a  lucky  chance  that  you  were  not  gone, 
Mr.  Trent?  I  have  always  feared  Mrs.  Payne 
would  get  a  fright  in  these  woods  after  dark. 
The  labourers  cross  them  because  it  cuts  the  dis 
tance,  and  it  is  late  for  a  lady  to  be  out  alone  at 
this  season,  even  as  early  as  this."  Thus  he  ig 
nored  the  situation  and  suppressed  any  ex 
planation  he  might  have  dreaded  for  all  their 
sakes.  He  went  toward  Stephanie  as  he  spoke, 
and  made  a  feint  of  drawing  her  cloak  about 
her. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  were  dreadfully  startled,  dar 
ling,"  he  began.  "  Shall  we  ask  Mr.  Trent's 
housekeeper  to  give  you  a  cup  of  tea,  or  a  glass 
of  wine?  and  then  I  will  take  you  home."  It  was 
the  perfect  assumption  of  an  unjostled  self-assur 
ance.  He  was  assuming  a  housekeeper,  to  keep 
up  the  effect  of  outraged  convention,  and  enunciat 
ing  a  role  for  each  of  them  as  smoothly  as  if  it  had 
been  a  proposition  in  geometry. 

But  Stephanie,  triumphant  in  her  freedom  and 
reassured  that  Trent  was  hers,  did  not  respond  to 
the  gallantry  of  her  husband's  effort  to  dictate  his 
own  terms.  She  had  not  risen.  Indeed  her  manner 
betrayed  no  suggestion  that  she  ever  would  leave 
her  present  refuge.  She  threw  back  the  fur  Ra 
leigh  had  drawn  about  her,  and  her  white  dress  in 


AN  ISSUE  EVADED  427 

the  moonlight  lifted  her  outlines  in  high  relief 
against  the  murky  shadows  behind  her. 

"  I  have  not  been  frightened,"  she  said  calmly. 
"  I  came  here  with  intention.  I  followed  my  heart. 
It  is  the  first  time  in  my  life, —  it  will  not  be  the 
last,  grace  a  Dieu !  " 

Trent  made  an  involuntary  intercepting  gesture, 
—  but  Raleigh  Payne  seeing  it,  frustrated  his  pur 
pose.  "  I  entirely  exculpate  you,  Mr.  Trent,"  he 
said  with  unabated  dignity.  "  I  am  sure  your 
word  was  proof  even  against  such  a  test  as  has 
been  imposed  upon  you." 

Stephanie's  repulsion  for  her  husband  increased 
at  each  urbane  word. 

"  I  am  in  ignorance  of  whatever  you  have  said 
or  done  to  influence  Mr.  Trent,"  she  said  in  an  icy 
voice,  haughtily  lifting  her  eyes  to  scrutinise  his 
unwelcome  intrusion  in  the  light  of  its  possibility 
to  harm  her.  "  But  whatever  it  may  have  been,  it 
will  have  no  effect.  And  for  whatever  you  may 
say  to  me,  it  is  too  late,  too  much  in  the  past." 

Raleigh  accepted  the  glove  so  rashly  hurled  in 
his  face,  as  a  definite  challenge. 

"  Not  an  hour  ago,  Mr.  Trent  left  me  in  entire 
agreement  with  my  suggestions.  No  woman 
would  wish  to  detain  a  man  against  his  will. 
When  there  are  others  dependent  upon  him  and 
his  honour  demands  it,  there  is  no  second  choice, 
even  in  love.  Caprice  in  a  pretty  woman  is  not 


428  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

unpardonable,  but  when  it  goes  so  far  as  to 
threaten  the  ruin  of  a  man's  career,  my  dear  Ste 
phanie,  no  honest  man  will  stand  by  and  see  the 
waste  of  a  life  scattered  to  the  winds  of  mo 
mentary  pleasure, —  or  passion  if  you  like  to  call 
it  so.  You  are  both  very  young.  I  am  not  going 
to  play  the  Moor  and  rant  in  serious  horror  at 
your  thoughtlessness  of  conventions,  or  even  of 
myself.  Fortunately  Mr.  Trent  has  no  wife  to 
make  an  outcry.  It  lies  interred  in  our  three  ca 
pacities  for  forgetting.  If  you  are  sufficiently 
yourself  again,  let  me  assist  you  in  putting  on  your 
coat.  We  shall  have  kept  Grandee  waiting  for  din 
ner  as  it  is,  and  as  you  know,  Grandee  detests 
waiting." 

"  I  am  not  going,"  she  said. 

"  That  comes  better  from  a  lover  than  from  the 
woman  in  his  power,"  Raleigh  remarked,  with  a 
sneer  he  made  an  effort  to  soften  without  lessen 
ing  its  full  value  of  insult. 

"  Possibly, —  to  a  man  of  your  scrupulous  hon 
our."  Her  voice  out-sneered  him. 

"  To  any  man  protecting  a  woman  of  so  stain 
less  a  record  as  your  own,"  he  replied. 

Stephanie's  heart  stopped  beating.  It  seemed  to 
turn  and  go  the  other  way,  then  stand  still  and 
crumble,  like  water  slowly  dropping. 

His  insinuation  was  perfectly  clear  to  her.  He 
knew  then.  In  her  later  complexities  she  had 


AN  ISSUE  EVADED  429 

grown  dull  to  that  sharp,  earlier  torment  of  un 
certainty.  The  climacteric  moment  was  upon  her. 
It  was  to  be  a  test  of  her  word  believed  against 
his  own.  To  lose  her  head  now  meant  to  lose 
everything,  past,  future,  present,  while  Trent  stood 
waiting  for  her  to  rid  herself  of  this  encumbering 
figure  that  had  stepped  between  them  and  hindered 
their  desperate  fulfilment  of  themselves.  In  her 
soul  she  whispered,  "  O  Sainte  Vierge !  Aide  moi ! 
Ne  m'abandonne  pas !  " 

The  two  men,  jealous  to  the  quick,  each  of  the 
other,  and  mated  in  mutual  jealousy  of  the  dead 
man  they  believed  to  have  loved  her  first, —  thereby 
defrauding  them,  helping  her  to  deceive  them  of 
their  male  right  to  be  first  in  the  heart  of  any 
woman  they  might  choose, —  stood  waiting  before 
her.  Something  in  her,  as  she  rose  and  stood  frail 
and  undaunted  before  them,  in  her  angelic  white 
ness,  disarmed  Trent.  If  any  one  but  Raleigh 
Payne  had  told  him  so  base  a  truth  about  her,  he 
would  have  staked  his  life  on  her  perfect  good 
ness  and  innocence  of  soul.  He  saw  her  flinch  at 
her  husband's  retort.  Was  it  weakness  or  aston 
ishment  at  an  attack  so  unprovoked,  so  porten 
tous  in  its  double  meaning?  How  was  he  to  tell? 
He  stood  helpless  between  these  two,  who  were 
bound  together  in  marriage,  in  knowledge  of  each 
other,  in  suspicion  and  in  hate.  It  was  as  if  he 
looked  on  at  a  storm  sweeping  round  him,  dealing 


430  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

devastation  he  was  powerless  to  prevent  or  escape. 
Then  for  the  first  time  Trent  spoke. 

"  I  told  your  husband  this  afternoon  that  I 
loved  you,"  he  said,  turning  to  her  only,  speaking 
as  if  they  two  were  alone. 

"  And  he  was  able  to  convince  you  that  you  did 
not  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,  I  have  not  changed.  I  do  —  I  shall  — " 
he  confessed,  wretched  at  his  vision  of  coming  days 
deprived  of  her. 

"  I  was,  however,  able  to  convince  Mr.  Trent, 
that  a  man's  honour  is  more  to  him  than  a  woman's 
temporary  preference,"  Raleigh  explained,  with  cut 
ting  emphasis. 

"  If  you  intend  to  assume  that  my  feeling  for 
him  is  the  less  sincere,  because  of  my  present  po 
sition  as  your  wife,  let  me  remind  you,  Raleigh 
Payne,  that  the  professions  of  love  between  us 
have  been  yours  and  not  mine,"  she  said  with 
hauteur,  unsubdued  by  his  covert  threat.  "  I  do 
not  say  that  you  could  not  have  made  me  love  you. 
It  remains  only  that  you  did  not  make  the  effort, 
or  the  sacrifice,  as  you  wish  to  call  it.  A  woman's 
heart  cannot  be  filled  by  a  public  appreciation.  I 
am  not  light  in  turning  from  you  to  another  man, 
who  is  capable  of  love,  who  does  not  measure,  and 
considers  it  of  first  importance  in  his  life.  You 
know  perfectly  what  our  relation  has  been,  and 
who  has  been  most  at  fault.  I  make  no  accusa- 


AN  ISSUE  EVADED  431 

tion  or  defence.  You  know  that  none  is  necessary 
between  us." 

"  I  make  no  allusion  to  our  own  mistakes/'  Ra 
leigh  said  hastily,  "  rather  to  the  more  removed 
'past,  which  never  escapes  a  woman's  relentless 
memory.  We  both  remember  our  own  perhaps  too 
well  to  boast.  But  do  you  consider  yours  calcu 
lated  to  make  it  a  safe  venture  for  a  man  of  Mr. 
Trent's  rare  promise,  to  throw  reputation  and 
character  away  for  your  sake?  A  woman  who  has 
loved  more  than  once,  loves  again,  most  often, 
does  she  not." 

If  she  had  turned  upon  her  husband  then,  de 
manded  what  he  meant,  accused  him  of  a  cowardly 
insinuation  that  he  could  not  support,  Trent  could 
have  believed  her  utterly.  The  fact  that  she  did 
not,  accused  her  in  his  painfully  confused  esti 
mate. 

"  You  know  best  what  you  mean,  if  you  mean 
anything,"  she  said.  It  sounded  evasive  to  Trent. 

"Do  I?"  Raleigh  questioned.  And  it  had  the 
ring  of  sincerity  she  lacked. 

"  You  also  know  that  you  are  lying,  by  what 
you  imply,"  she  asserted,  gathering  courage  from 
desperation. 

"  Have  I  ever  lied  ?  When  ?  In  public  or  in 
private  life?  Could  my  worst  political  enemies 
find  anything  to  discredit  my  word?  Have  even 
the  Catholics  found  one  flaw  in  my  honour? 


432  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

Should  I  have  been  spared  if  it  was  possible  to 
assail  me  ? "  he  flung  back  at  her  arrogantly. 
"  With  what  untruth  do  you  presume  to  charge 
me,  Stephanie?  A  wife  should  know  her  hus 
band's  honour  at  its  weakest  point !  " 

He  had  wisely  or  unwisely  given  her  her  oppor 
tunity,  once  for  all.  He  was  waiting.  If  she 
spoke  now,  he  knew  how  to  silence  her  forever, 
disgrace  her  in  Trent's  eyes  and  tighten  the  chains 
that  bound  her  to  his  will.  Her  lover's  whole  hope 
and  faith  were  in  the  balance, —  lit  his  imploring 
gaze.  He  loved  her  whatever  she  did  or  said,  but 
he  besought  mutely  of  heaven,  that  she  prove  her 
self  beyond  reproach  for  her  own  sake. 

She  had  drawn  herself  up  before  them,  a  proud, 
slight  figure  of  contempt.  The  withdrawal  of  her 
posture,  the  poise  of  her  deliberation  discarded 
them  both.  Austria  more  than  religion  upheld  her 
in  this  ordeal  before  the  two  men  who  had  already 
judged  her  and  held  her  condemned. 

She  knew  how  well  it  lay  in  her  power  to  im 
peach  her  husband's  vaunted  honour.  She  had 
only  to  produce  poor  Nicolai  Heathleagh's  blot 
ted  poems.  Probably  she  had  but  to  hint  at  the 
defence  in  her  hands,  to  hush  Raleigh's  calumny 
of  her  forever.  If  he  knew,  he  had  probably  told 
Trent  all  and  more.  But  did  he  know  or  was  he 
but  letting  his  suspicion  be  confirmed  or  put  to 
sleep  once  for  all  ?  Both  Trent  and  he,  being  men, 


AN  ISSUE  EVADED  433 

would  believe  from  Nicolai's  vague  words  what 
Raleigh  had  distorted  from  them.  He  would  make 
Trent  believe  the  worst  of  her  if  she  produced 
these  very  poems  to  support  her  counter-charge, 
whose  passion  would  contradict  her  innocent  de 
nials  and  shatter  the  faith  of  the  man  she  would 
die  to  save  from  such  desolation.  Did  men  ever 
believe  a  woman  in  affairs  of  the  heart?  Never! 
If  she  insisted  on  her  innocent  relation  with  the 
dead  man  and  taxed  Raleigh  outright  with  theft 
of  his  verses,  it  would  only  complicate  her  further, 
instead  of  extricating  her  clear  and  blameless  in 
the  eyes  of  her  lover.  Trent  would  despise  her, 
Raleigh  would  hate  her.  Heathleagh  must  have 
told  Raleigh  that  no  one  had  ever  seen  the  poems 
but  the  one  woman.  If  she  proved  herself  to  be 
that  woman,  how  could  she  escape  their  inevitable 
conclusion?  If  she  said  nothing,  there  was  the 
chance  that  Raleigh  knew  nothing, —  beyond  some 
vaguely  aroused  suspicion,  and  that  Trent  would 
fail  to  catch  the  deadly  import  of  the  issue.  If 
she  could  save  his  ideal  of  her,  or  the  chance  of 
his  faith  outliving  a  false  accusation,  it  was  in 
finitely  better  than  taking  the  open  alternative. 
Father  Mayhew  could  do  the  rest  later. 

It  was  this  blending  of  possibilities  that  impelled 
her  restraint  at  last. 

"  My  conscience  and  my  memory  are  reconciled," 
she  said  coldly.  "  I  am  ignorant  of  your  intention 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  TEST  OF  MONEY 

WITH  an  outward  composure  that  cov 
ered  something  very  like  paralysis  of 
inward  being  the  habits  of  Sky  High 
were  resumed.  Grandee  asked  nothing  and  did  all 
that  lay  in  his  power  to  preserve  a  semblance  of 
family  accord  and  winter  cheer.  Never  had  the 
great  log  fires  leapt  more  brilliantly  or  the  devices 
of  the  table  held  more  subtle  snares  for  the  appe 
tite.  He  talked  wisely  and  wittily,  of  books,  of 
his  own  experience  with  foreign  rulers,  and  the 
men  and  women  of  society.  He  was  never,  it 
seemed,  at  loss  for  an  illustration,  the  "  mot  juste," 
a  word  picture  of  some  famous  personage  who  had 
at  some  time  been  his  own  familiar  friend ;  or  the 
intimate  interpretation  of  the  moods  of  Nature, — 
and  his  speculations  toward  the  future  of  the  race, 
and  one's  own  premonition  of  immortal  adventures 
yet  to  come,  disembodied  of  this  hindering  bulk 
and  free  to  gad  with  the  stars  if  one  would. 

He  knew  that  Stephanie's  capacity  for  suffering 
was  that  of  a  sweet,  undisciplined  child,  taught 
only  in  the  convent  and  the  hearsay  of  her  grand 
mother's  world.  Neither  of  these  he  believed  ade- 

436 


THE  TEST  OF  MONEY  437 

quate  to  the  great  moral  strains  of  maturity. 
They  would  break  down  before  a  vital  decision, 
Grandee  was  sure.  He  would  have  supplied  a 
firmer  foundation  for  her  if  he  had  known  how. 
As  it  was,  he  held  her  hand  in  his  as  closely  as  he 
could  and  trusted  the  rest  to  the  ministration  of 
time.  She  had  none  of  Christine's  resources  at 
her  command.  She  had  read,  played,  dreamed, 
dressed,  even  ordered  Grandee's  household  to  a 
certain  extent,  for  Trent.  Without  him  there  was 
no  meaning  to  any  single  one  of  the  activities  of 
her  day.  Her  tastes  were  intrinsically  pointless  un 
less  intensified  by  his  sharing,  and  nothing  was 
worth  while  without  his  dazzled  appreciation. 

What  eloquence  had  either  Grandee  or  Raleigh 
to  restore  the  thrill  she  pined  for?  Neither  had 
been  able  to  make  her  waver  in  her  own  devotion 
to  Trent,  but  when  he  left  her,  or  allowed  her  to 
leave  him,  and  go  alone  in  the  deathly  moonlight 
from  the  Squirrel's  Nest,  every  hope  had  collapsed 
and  buried  her  under  an  ignominy  that  shamed 
even  her  fondest  memories  of  their  brief  passion 
for  each  other. 

Until  this  calamity  Grandee  talked  against  time 
and  an  unlistening  heart.  After  that  tragic  de 
sertion  of  hope,  no  one  dared  to  break  in  upon 
her  rigid  reserve.  She  did  not  regret  her  silence 
under  her  husband's  provocation.  She  did  not 
feel  any  sort  of  emotion  about  anything.  She  went 


438  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

on  living,  and  Grandee  grew  more  grave  as  Ra 
leigh  procrastinated  his  preparations  to  take  her 
away  from  the  scene  of  so  much  unhappiness. 

To  Raleigh's  generous  proposal,  "  Suppose  we 
begin  all  over,  darling,  to-day, —  and  try  to  forget 
there  was  any  yesterday,"  she  had  only  repeated 
uncomprehendingly,  "  Begin  what  over  ?  " 

"  Begin  everything  over." 

"  You  wish  to  leave  all  that  is  in  the  past,  as  if 
it  had  not  been  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  assured  her,  encouraged  by  her  at 
tention.  "  I  mean  to  step  out  of  our  past  selves, 
leave  our  unpleasant  memories  behind,  our  sins  to 
ward  each  other,  our  inheritance  of  weakness,  our 
tendencies,  habits,  associations.  Think  what  it 
would  be !  A  sort  of  Easter  of  the  heart ! " 

She  shook  her  head  unconvinced  by  the  alluring 
possibility. 

"  I  am  willing  and  ready,  darling.  Don't  be 
hard  on  yourself !  "  he  urged  with  increasing  mag 
nanimity. 

"  To  begin  over  ?  "  she  said  again.  "  Ah,  no ! 
That  would  be  to  lose  all  and  to  gain, —  what  ?  " 

In  her  soul  she  was  sure  he  suspected  her  to 
have  been  guilty  in  her  relation  to  Nicolai  Heath- 
leagh.  She  considered  him  a  coward  to  withhold 
his  charge  for  fear  of  her  own  unique  hold  over 
him  in  return.  Why  should  he  assume  this  for 
giving  condescension?  He,  who  had  stolen  a  dead 


THE  TEST  OF  MONEY  439 

man's  reputation  and  a  woman's  right  to  denounce 
him?  In  the  rage  of  helplessness  she  turned  to 
Father  Mayhew  for  light.  She  would  have  gone 
to  him,  begged  him  to  provide  her  with  some  form 
of  escape,  but  she  knew  too  well  that  the  convent 
would  be  his  only  alternative  from  a  life  of  dis 
cretion  with  her  husband.  And  the  convent  would 
separate  her  from  the  thought  of  Trent.  She 
needed  no  external  aid  to  her  vision  of  him,  any 
more  than  the  hasheesh  dreamer  needs  to  glorify  his 
cell ;  but  if  to  love  him  now,  in  her  wedded  vows 
to  Raleigh  Payne,  was  a  venial  sin, —  to  adore  him 
behind  a  nun's  vows  to  heaven  would  mean  not 
purgatory  shared,  but  ultimate  perdition,  alone. 
The  advantage  was  all  Raleigh's.  It  maddened  her 
most  to  be  dependent  upon  him.  Day  and  night 
the  struggle  went  on  within  her,  while  Raleigh 
delayed  at  Sky  High,  which  puzzled  Grandee  and 
worried  him  even  more.  He  would  have  given  a 
great  deal  for  Dan  Wylin's  verdict  now:  would 
have  sent  for  him,  if  he  had  not  gone  South  to 
supervise  the  opening  of  a  home  for  nervous  chil 
dren,  founded  at  his  own  expense  and  as  his  own 
experiment.  It  occurred  to  him  as  possible  that 
the  added  weight  and  superb  animal  condition  vis 
ible  in  his  nephew  might  conceal  a  mental  weak 
ness,  hid  from  all  but  the  scrutiny  of  professional 
insight.  He  did  not  like  to  hurry  Raleigh  back  to 
the  city,  lest  his  imagination  get  working  to  the 


440  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

detriment  of  his  own  condition.  Otherwise  there 
were  other  good  men  who  could  take  a  look  at 
him,  and  suggest  a  beneficial  move.  Grandee  was 
sure  the  quiet  of  Sky  High  had  no  charm  for  Ra 
leigh,  yet  there  was  no  effort  toward  other  de 
parture  and  a  lack  of  initiative  never  visible  in  that 
indomitable  will  before. 

"  What  does  love  mean  to  you,  Raleigh  ? "  he 
asked,  one  afternoon  as  they  sat  alone  in  the  Eyrie, 
pretending  to  read.  The  answer  was  unhesitating 
and  sure. 

"  What  does  love  mean  to  me  ?  Life, —  dou 
bled." 

And  Grandee  knew  that  had  he  asked  Trent  the 
same  question,  the  shadows  of  Rossetti  would  have 
clung  to  his  evasions,  reluctant  and  dusky.  And 
to  which  of  these  men,  each  the  counterpart  of  the 
other,  was  it  real?  Or  even  more  real?  To 
which,  if  either,  was  this  dear  woman  necessary? 
And  if  to  either,  why  did  they  not  assert  it?  Ste 
ven  Randall  condemned  both  men,  in  his  heart, 
these  long,  dark  afternoons  of  early  winter  when 
the  cold  crept  like  a  were-wolf  nearer  and  nearer 
the  blaze  upon  the  hearth.  What  business  had  the 
Creator  to  have  made  women,  if  they  were  to  be 
the  legitimate  victims  of  men?  Raleigh  read  his 
unrest  and  met  it  encouragingly. 

"  I  wish  you  would  not  worry  so  about  Ste 
phanie,  Uncle  Randall,"  he  said  kindly.  "  She  will 


THE  TEST  OF  MONEY  441 

come  out  all  right.  Let  her  have  a  little  chance 
to  get  over  the  jolt  of  the  first  re-adjustment.  As 
soon  as  she  gets  herself  in  hand,  I  shall  assert  my 
self  of  course.  She  will  swing  back  into  step  easily 
enough.  We  shall  get  on  famously, —  better  than 
ever  for  the  additional  knowledge  of  each  other. 
I  am  not  taking  this  flurry  seriously.  I  do  not  see 
why  you  should.  There  is  no  harm  done.  Ste 
phanie  will  pout  for  a  week  or  so,  and  then  forget 
it  all." 

"  You  seem  to  eliminate  the  effect  upon  Law 
rence  Trent,"  Randall  said  drily.  "  I  suppose  you 
recognise  what  this  has  taken  out  of  him." 

"  As  for  him,  he  is  at  large  again  all  the  better 
for  a  harmless  course  in  feminine  folly.  He  is  an 
ambitious  lad  along  his  own  lines.  He  would  not 
want  Stephanie  or  any  other  woman  at  the  price  of 
his  standing  among  men.  He  has  a  keen  head  on 
his  shoulders,  once  a  woman's  arms  are  removed 
from  them.  He  has  more  stuff  in  him  naturally 
than  Jim.  It  takes  Christine  to  keep  Jim  up  t6 
the  scratch,  but  this  younger  brother  is  marked 
for  the  peerage  of  his  profession.  He  knows  it. 
He  will  be  more  careful  of  entangling  alliances  in 
future,  to  speak  diplomatically." 

"  I  am  not  sure  you  are  right,"  said  Randall 
slowly.  "  I  think  you  do  not  read  him  deeply 
enough.  He  is  one  of  those  still  things,  narrow  as 
the  grave  and  just  as  final." 


442  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

"  On  the  other  hand,  Stephanie  herself  would 
never  espouse  a  cottage  by  the  mill !  " 

"  I  do  not  know  about  that  either,"  Randall  ob 
jected  again.  "  She  is  disillusioned  pretty  thor 
oughly  for  a  woman  so  young,  and  he  is  a  scholar. 
She  has  seen,  and  heard  said  to  her,  about  every 
thing  men  and  countries  can  give  or  say.  She 
knows  the  worth  or  vanity  of  it  all  rather  too  pre 
cisely  to  make  any  mistake  in  her  estimates.  He 
cares  not  a  jot  for  anything  outside  his  books, — 
unless  it  is  Stephanie.  Politics  mean  nothing  to 
him.  I  doubt  if  he  knows  whether  the  Governor 
of  his  native  state  is  a  Democrat  or  a  Republican. 
She  will  always  be  able  to  remember,  for  her 
amusement, —  and  he  can  imagine, —  and  then, 
they  are  both  under  the  spell  of  each  other." 

"  It  surprises  me  to  hear  you  treat  it  as  more 
than  a  summer  breeze,"  Raleigh  said  carelessly. 
"  I  am  always  curious  about  what  you  think,  but  I 
own  I  am  astonished  that  you  think  at  all  about  so 
transient  an  episode." 

"  I  do  think  about  it.  I  think  even  more, —  and 
that  is,  if  either  of  them  had  a  private  fortune  we 
should  be  given  a  chance  to  see  where  we  came  in. 
I  believe  it  would  astonish  you  even  more." 

"  The  lack  of  sufficient  fortune  Mr.  Trent  does 
seem  to  consider  a  final  barrier.  There  is  nothing 
that  cools  a  lover's  ardour  quite  so  perceptibly  as 
the  need  of  the  almighty  dollar,  vulgar  as  it  sounds 


THE  TEST  OF  MONEY  443 

in  association  with  the  divine  language  of  the  in 
flammable  poets,"  Raleigh  said,  smiling  at  the 
comedy  element  in  all  heroics. 

"  Of  course  he  cannot  contemplate  reducing  a 
woman  like  Stephanie  to  even  poetic,  rose-thatched 
poverty,"  Randall  mused  sadly,  "  but  his  motives 
are  not  mercenary." 

"  You  seem  to  be  commiserating  their  escape 
from  wrong-doing,"  Raleigh  remarked,  annoyed. 

"  I  pity  them,"  Randall  replied  simply.  "  If  I  had 
been  Trent  I  could  not  have  done  as  he  has  done, 
whether  from  supernatural  strength  or  human 
weakness." 

"  And  I  think  you  quite  underestimate  the  power 
of  public  opinion  and  social  convention.  My  wife 
will  never  over-step  the  bounds,"  he  spoke  stiffly. 
Randall  made  no  reply.  He  was  thinking  how  he 
would  love  to  put  a  fortune  at  Stephanie's  com 
mand,  if  only  sin  would  not  be  the  price  of  her  en 
suing  happiness.  It  seemed  harder  than  ever  to 
him  to-day,  that  love  might  not  flow  in  a  refreshing 
stream,  to  gladden  meadows  and  illusion  cities. 
Why  should  love  be  expected  to  stay  always  in  one 
place,  more  than  a  life-giving  river  on  its  glad  way 
to  useful  mill-wheels  and  majestically  stored 
power,  as  well  as  the  lush  banks  of  flower-fringed 
idling? 

"  One's  vision  of  life  is  a  fairer  habitation  to 
dwell  in,  than  the  actual  world,"  was  all  he  said 


444  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

aloud.  But  Raleigh  instantly  took  high  moral 
issue  with  such  laxity.  "  Vision  is  the  catch-word 
of  to-day,  Uncle  Randall,  not  duty.  I  heard  a 
Bishop  say,  at  a  dinner  in  town  the  other  night, 
that  the  children  of  Israel  were  lost  because  they 
did  as  seemed  good  to  them,  and  God  was  not 
pleased ! " 

"  Don't  lug  God  into  this.  I  cannot  stand  that !  " 
Randall  said  impatiently.  And  the  subject  was 
never  re-opened. 

When  Randall  appealed  to  Stephanie  to  rouse 
herself  and  try  to  let  the  light  in  her  heart  again, 
she  cried  out,  as  a  sick  child,  "  I  want  to,  dear 
Grandee,  for  your  sake.  But  I  am  not  able." 

*'  You  are  dear  to  me  as  a  daughter,"  he  told  her, 
"  be  brave,  and  let  me  give  you  all  I  have,  to  fortify 
your  self-respect  and  nerve  you  to  face  life  again !  " 

"  And  I  love  you,  too,  more  than  all, —  but  one," 
she  assured  him,  "  but  I  have  lost  my  power  to 
love,  or  to  wish  anything  very  strongly.  For  me 
the  summer  is  over.  It  is  winter  in  my  soul  also." 

Gradually  a  dull  semblance  of  harmony  crept 
over  them.  She  could  not  marry  Trent,  for  while 
Raleigh  lived  he  would  not  marry  her,  even  if 
she  swore  she  was  a  base  creature  and  obliged 
Raleigh  to  divorce  her.  And  even  if  law  was  ap 
peased  to  the  last  fraction  of  blood,  she  could  not 
ruin  Trent  by  giving  herself  to  him  penniless. 
Others  depended  upon  him.  Only  once  Randall 


THE  TEST  OF  MONEY  445 

dared  to  approve  and  encourage,  but  then  she 
turned  from  his  smile  with  a  hard  shrug  that  hurt 
him,  as  she  cried,  "  Do  not  deceive  yourself.  I 
am  dependent  upon  my  husband.  We  are  obliged 
to  live  it  out  with  a  crossed  sword  between  us. 
Love  is  my  sacred  ideal.  Ambition  is  Raleigh's 
idol."  There  was  no  hint  of  resignation  in  her 
word  or  manner. 

And  Raleigh  went  smilingly  on,  unconscious  of 
her  smouldering  resentment,  indifferent  to  all  save 
his  own  health  and  success,  and  so  certain  of  his 
power  over  her  that  he  was  willing  to  wait  indefi 
nitely.  If  he  had  not  been  a  trifle  suspicious  al 
ways  of  too  much  good  luck,  he  would  have  been 
perfectly  at  ease. 

The  Trust  investigations  had  piroved  a  dumb 
show.  He  had  come  off  with  flying  colours  and  an 
added  notoriety,  involving  complimentary  resolu 
tions,  and  flattering  notices  right  and  left.  He  had 
come  out  ahead  in  his  struggles  against  certain 
Catholic  interests  that  he  had  checked  from  pre 
dominance  in  a  vital  quarter,  and  though  assailed 
on  all  sides,  his  unblemished  reputation  for  truth 
had  protected  him  from  the  probing  given  all  pub 
lic  men  under  the  glare  of  a  crisis.  Wall  Street 
was  firm  and  he  had  received  an  offer  for  his  risky 
timberland  in  the  North-west  that  convinced  him  it 
would  be  a  mistake  to  consider  its  sale,  thereby 
backing  his  first  scent  for  the  investment,  which 


446  THE  SIN  OF  'ANGELS 

pleased  his  appreciation  of  his  own  judgment.  And 
now  the  Washington  appointment  was  open,  and 
soon  to  be  decided,  with  no  conspicuous  rival  in 
sight.  His  complacence  was  only  marred  by  his 
certainty  that  life  always  strikes  an  average.  And 
if  all  else  was  going  so  swimmingly,  the  drop  might 
come  in  the  very  place  he  would  give  up  all  the  rest 
to  secure.  He  did  not  lay  enough  stress  on  this 
whirligig  in  his  wife's  emotions  to  consider  it  use 
ful  in  the  balance  of  greater  things.  Beside  he  had 
a  secret  to  tell  her,  that  was  only  waiting  for  a 
less  indifferent  mood  on  her  part.  He  could  ab 
solutely  count  on  her  pleasure  in  the  telling,  and 
he  was  reserving  it  for  the  last  course  in  his  cure 
of  her  experiment  in  the  illegitimate  comedy  of 
European  marriage  a  la  mode,  including  the  lover 
as  an  inevitable  third. 

He  did  not  suspect  that  every  hour  Stephanie 
hated  her  bondage  more.  What  he  had  said  to 
Trent,  she  had  no  way  of  guessing.  She  supposed 
it  was  nothing  more  than  the  trite  maxims  of  the 
world.  He  would  not  dare  to  accuse  her.  He  had 
not  dared  before  her  face,  and  no  man  would  be 
a  man  who  refused  a  woman  opportunity  to  con 
tradict  a  lie.  He  had  spared  himself  as  much  as 
her  in  holding  back  the  name  of  Heathleagh,  de 
terred  perhaps  by  the  same  scruple  that  sealed  her 
own  lips.  Her  mind  ran  incessantly  on  the  poems. 
Were  they,  after  all,  so  compromising?  It  was 


THE  TEST  OF  MONEY  447 

a  brilliant  winter  morning  when  the  idea  came  to 
her  to  read  them  over,  just  as  he  had  first  written 
them,  and  see  if  they  were  indeed  beyond  her  use 
as  complete  justification,  and  reason  for  leaving 
the  husband  she  knew  false  at  the  core.  Outside, 
the  white-cowled  pines  bowed  submissively  to  their 
heavy  habits  of  snow,  and  the  shadows  along  the 
edge  of  the  forest  lay  purple  as  the  vestments  for 
the  especial  feast  days  of  the  church.  She  went 
to  the  foreign  dress-box  that  always  stood  in  her 
own  room,  at  home  or  hotel,  and  unlocking  the  box 
that  held  her  private  papers,  drew  out  the  battered 
sheets  and  began  to  read. 

They  transported  her.  They  suffocated  her  — 
she  threw  open  the  window  and  the  cold  clean 
breath  of  the  pines  blew  across  her  with  infinite 
invigoration.  The  wind  was  blowing  in  a  deter 
mined  way,  sweeping  down  from  the  height  to  the 
valley  below,  in  eddies  that  set  the  snow  whirling 
before  it. 

When  Raleigh  later  opened  the  door  from  the 
next  room,  the  draught  sent  a  gale  blowing,  in 
which  the  light  curtains  streamed  out  like  banners, 
and  put  every  flimsy  thing  in  instant  motion.  The 
papers  before  Stephanie  would  have  gone  sliding 
after,  if  she  had  not  swept  them  hastily  into  an  open 
drawer, —  glad  for  this  excuse  of  necessity  to  save 
them  from  being  blown  out  of  the  window,  which 
he  closed;  commenting  disparagingly  on  the  low 


448  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

temperature  of  the  room.  She  saw  at  once  that  he 
had  an  object  in  coming  to  her  there  and  something 
of  importance  to  say. 

"  You  have  seemed  so  preoccupied,  darling,"  he 
began,  seating  himself  upon  the  arm  of  her  chair, 
and  pushing  in  one  of  her  long  shell  hairpins  with 
a  marital  air  of  entire  possession,  "  that  I  have  de 
layed  giving  you  some  information  that  has  come 
from  abroad.  I  waited  to  investigate  it  first,  and 
then  to  have  the  announcement  confirmed." 

She  paid  little  or  no  attention  to  him  now,  be 
cause  it  sounded  so  exactly  like  all  Raleigh's  pre 
vious  announcements  of  a  new  appointment.  She 
was  unprepared  to  hear  him  ask,  instead  of  con 
tinuing  with  his  monolog, — "  But  first  tell  me,  when 
did  you  hear  last  from  your  grandmother?  " 

Stephanie  shrugged  regretfully.  She  shrank 
from  admission  of  her  Grandmother's  casting  her 
off.  It  wounded  her  to  have  it  recalled.  "  She 
does  not  write  at  all.  She  has  forgotten  me,"  she 
said. 

"  She  has  gone  so  far  as  to  make  you  believe  her 
indifferent  as  to  your  fate  ? "  Was  he  trying  to 
impress  the  misery  of  her  utter  dependence  upon 
her?  Her  heart  hardened  under  the  impression 
that  he  was. 

"  When  have  you  heard  from  her  ?  "  he  persisted. 

"  Never,  since  she  gave  me  over  into  your  hands," 
she  replied  dispassionately. 


THE  TEST  OF  MONEY  449 

They  had  all  done  what  they  liked  with  her 
from  the  first!  She  felt  herself  a  mere  object  in 
their  handling. 

"  I  have  intended  to  live  up  to  her  confidence 
in  me,"  Raleigh  said  hastily.  Was  he  reminding 
her  that  she,  not  he,  had  departed  from  the  letter 
of  their  contract? 

"  Why  do  you  ask  me  questions!  about  my  grand 
mother?"  she  asked,  wishing  he  would  go  away. 
"  What  possible  interest  can  our  relation  have  for 
you?" 

"  It  has  a  very  great  interest ;  for  you  have  mis 
judged  her  affection,  even  more  than  mine."  Still 
she  betrayed  only  a  sense  of  interruption. 

"  The  old  Countess  is  dead,"  Raleigh  added,  "  and 
she  has  left  her  entire  estate  to  you,  darling."  Even 
then  Stephanie  looked  at  him  with  unconcern. 

"  You  see  she  did  care  for  you,  appearances  to 
the  contrary,  all  the  time."  He  patted  her  arm 
playfully  as  he  watched  her  for  the  revival  of  pleas 
ure  he  had  anticipated  from  the  telling  of  his  great 
news. 

"The  Countesse  de  Lamoureux  died  in  spite  of 
herself,  or  her  own  wishes,"  she  said  unmoved. 
"  As  her  only  surviving  descendant  I  must  inherit. 
That  is  what  has  arrived,  tout  simplement.  It  is 
not  an  affair  of  sentiment,"  she  corrected  him  drily. 

"  Don't  be  so  hard  toward  her,  darling !  She  had 
suffered  greatly,  you  know,  and  the  real  estate  in 


450  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

Vienna  will  come  to  you  unencumbered,  with  a 
sufficient  fund  to  make  up  to  you  for  your  father's 
failure  to  provide  for  you." 

"  We  will  leave  the  misfortunes  of  my  father 
out  of  our  discussion,  if  you  please."  Raleigh 
thought  he  had  never  seen  such  an  exhibition  of 
hardness  of  spirit,  such  unrelenting  implacability 
toward  the  dead. 

Suddenly  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands, 
and  sat  so  long  silent  that  he  believed  her  touched, 
at  last,  by  natural  feeling  for  the  loss  of  the  only 
earthly  relation  of  her  own  blood.  Instantly  he 
laid  a  warm  hand  on  her  shoulder,  won  to  her  by 
an  instinctive  sympathy,  urging  affectionately, — 

"  Do  not  grieve  too  much,  Stephanie.  It  was 
a  natural  and  inevitable  death.  She  was  very  old, 
— beyond  almost  every  enjoyment,  and  she  had 
lived  her  life  out.  Let  us  try  to  feel  she  had  time 
to  fully  repent  her  follies,  and  face  her  future  in 
a  hope  of  immortality." 

But  Stephanie  was  not  weeping.  When  she 
slipped  from  his  caress,  it  was  a  tearless  face  that 
confronted  him. 

"  When  did  you  know  this  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  Only  recently  by  the  lawyer's  communication." 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  immediately  ?  " 

"  I  waited  to  establish  identity,  according  to 
foreign  custom.  I  had  to  assure  myself  there  had 
been  no  mistake  and  no  legal  form  was  lacking." 


THE  TEST  OF  MONEY  451 

"  Did  you  know  it  the  day  you  came  up  from 
the  city  and  found  Mr.  Trent  here  with  Grandee?  " 

"  I  was  reasonably  sure  of  it." 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me?" 

"  I  considered  you  too  over-wrought  at  that  time 
to  pay  proper  heed  to  any  other  matter,  especially 
one  that  might  prove  an  uncertainty." 

"  I  see,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  shook  so  that 
she  could  hardly  form  the  words.  "  And  so  in 
stead  of  telling  me  then,  you  generously  took  me 
back,  after  that  interview  with  Mr.  Trent,  as  the 
forgiven,  and  sinning  wife!  Penniless,  friendless, 
except  for  her  husband's  merciful  bounty?" 

"  I  fail  to  catch  the  connection,  if  there  is  one  in 
your  own  mind,  Stephanie." 

"  There  is  one !  My  word  of  honour  for  it !  " 
she  cried,  laughing  hysterically,  "  there  is  as  much 
connection  as  freedom  to  the  captive  after  he  has 
taken  poison."  She  put  her  hands  over  her  mouth 
to  prevent  the  hysterical  desire  to  laugh  more 
loudly,  even  to  scream. 

The  aristocratically  marked  brows  across  Ra 
leigh's  nose  contracted  haughtily. 

"  There  was  no  dishonour  in  delay,  or  in  my 
intention,"  he  said. 

"  Oh  Raleigh,  your  honour !  You  are  more  than 
honest  in  so  many  ways!  One  could  leave  the 
golden  rule  lying  about  forever,  with  entire  safety, 
—  you  would  never  touch  it !  You  knew  of  this 


452  THE  SIN  OF  'ANGELS 

money  my  grandmother  had  left  me,  but  it  was 
too  critical,  too  dubious,  a  moment  to  admit  it, 
yes?" 

"  Stephanie  really,  you  are  insulting ! "  he  pro 
tested,  his  colour  deepening  as  she  went  on. 

"  I  am  not  insulting.  I  am  only  honest  like  you. 
Does  it  please  you?  You  knew  I  could  not  leave 
you  without  a  sou.  You  know  I  should  have  gone 
to  Father  Mayhew  if  I  had  seen  but  a  little  fortune 
in  my  own  right.  I  would  have  gone  to  the  man  I 
loved,  if  I  could  have  been  anything  but  a  bitter 
embarrassment  and  a  burden  to  him.  And  you 
conceal  the  fact  of  my  fortune  from  me,  and  go  on 
talking  to  me  of  honour!  It  is  too  ridiculous! 
Mon  Dieu,  but  how  you  make  me  laugh !  How  you 
'are  droll!" 

Her  ridicule  stung  him  beyond  any  possible  re 
proach.  At  the  moment  some  one  knocked.  Ste 
phanie  remained  motionless.  It  was  Raleigh  who 
recovered  himself  enough  to  step  to  the  door  and 
open  it. 

Joel  Underwood  stood  outside.  He  stepped 
into  the  room,  unbidden,  holding  a  paper  in  his 
hand.' 

"  It  blew  out  of  your  window,"  he  explained, 
"  right  down  into  the  early  snowball  bed.  I  was 
lightening  up  their  covering  a  little.  Season's  too 
warm  for  all  the  bulbs.  It  is  going  to  be  the  poor 
est  year  since  I  was  a  boy,  for  all  those  early  things. 


THE  TEST  OF  MONEY  453 

I  should  not  wonder  if  they  was  to  fail  and  not 
one  of  'em  come  to  a  bud." 

"  I  hope  not.  We  should  miss  them  sorely  from 
the  terrace.  They  have  our  best  and  brightest 
wishes ! "  Raleigh  returned  glibly. 

"  When  I  see  beggars  ride  I  shall  value  wishes 
more  than  I  do  now,"  Joel  observed,  glancing  at 
Stephanie,  who  threw  him  a  faint  smile.  He  ex 
tended  the  sheet  of  paper  that  he  had  rescued  to 
her,  with  unconciliated  visage.  As  he  withdrew, 
the  eyes  of  the  husband  and  wife  met  upon  the 
manuscript  poem  of  Nicolei  Heathleagh  — 

"  L'Hirondelle  Blanche" 

For  some  time  they  stood  so.  Neither  knew 
how  long. 

"  So  you  were  the  mistress  of  that  dead  boy !  " 
Raleigh  muttered,  too  shaken  to  spare  her. 

"  I  was  not." 

"  This  proves  it !  " 

"You  forget  perhaps  what  it  also  proves?" 

Again  they  faced  each  other.  Each  was  men 
tally  reviewing  the  past  and  the  influence  exerted 
by  a  mutual  enmity. 

"  I  will  tell  you  without  reserve,  once  for  all, 
that  I  loved  Nicolai  — "  she  said  dreamily, — "  so 
loyal,  so  brave,  so  tender  always  of  a  woman's 
heart!  Never  cruel,  never  forgetful,  never  de 
grading  love  to  a  second  place !  His  devotion  was 


454  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

like  that  of  a  mother  to  her  little  child.  Gentle, 
patient,  trusting  wholly  to  the  generosity  of  the 
heart  that  loved  him.  Faithful,  in  face  of  the  ap 
pearance  of  infidelity,  he  held  the  young  girl  he 
adored  sacred  as  heaven.  Courageous  in  danger, 
but  before  her  trembling  with  awe.  First  at  the 
front  in  battle,  but  weak  enough  to  weep  over  her 
slightest  sorrow  or  pain.  Deceived,  it  is  true,  but 
never  by  Stephanie!  He  remains  in  her  disil 
lusioned  experience  of  men  and  their  world,  the 
purest,  noblest,  most  generous  figure  of  a  young 
girl's  blameless  dream,  before  the  rude  dawning 
of  her  day  of  marriage  and  reality." 

Twice  Raleigh  began  to  speak.  Twice  she  mo 
tioned  him  to  silence. 

"What  is  there  more  to  say?"  she  demanded. 
"  We  do  not  believe  each  other.  You  have  played 
your  part  in  the  play  to  the  end,  for  as  far  as  J 
am  concerned  it  is  the  end,  here  and  now.  I  have 
always  said  you  were  a  man  of  the  very  highest 
principles,  for  others.  My  ideals  are  of  a  differ 
ence.  My  grandmother  the  Comtesse  de  Lamou- 
reux  has  atoned,  blessed  be  her  memory !  It  is 
now  possible  for  us  to  consider  it  of  no  moment 
what  one  does,  or  the  other  feels.  There  is  no 
necessity  of  discussion  or  explanation  or  recrim 
ination  between  us.  I  shall  go  at  once  to  Vienna 
to  assume  control  of  my  grandmother's  affairs.  I 
shall  do  all  my  possible  to  induce  Grandee  to  ac 
company  me." 


THE  TEST  OF  MONEY  455 

"You  will  leave  me,  Stephanie?"  He  was  in 
credulous. 

"  With  your  career,"  she  replied  sweetly.  "  It 
will  not  fail  you.  You  possess  the  first  quality  of 
success  —  ingratitude." 

"  And  my  love  for  you  cast  aside  ?  " 

"  You  have  loved  my  contribution  to  your  suc 
cess,  and  you  have  had  it.  You  will  always  have 
my  good  wishes." 

"And  the  scandal!"  he  retorted. 

"  Not  unless  you  prefer  to  make  a  scandal  out 
of  it.  You  will  say,  naturally,  that  Mrs.  Payne 
was  called  abroad  by  the  exigence  of  legal  adjust 
ments, —  you  will  hint  at  a  larger  estate  than  is 
really  mine.  It  will  not  hurt  your  position  to  ex 
aggerate  in  this  case,  it  will  increase  your  won 
der." 

How  pitilessly  she  knew  him,  riddled  him 
through  and  through! 

"  You  will  add,"  she  went  on, — "  that  happily 
your  Uncle  Steven  Randall,  of  whom  she  is  de 
votedly  fond,  is  with  her  in  your  place.  You  will 
add,  apropos,  a  few  plausible  details  of  some  new 
state  secret,  that  keeps  so  important  a  man  as  the 
honourable  Raleigh  Payne  tied  to  his  government 
for  the  moment,  however  against  his  will.  You 
will  admit  the  sacrifices  a  public  man  is  often 
obliged  to  make." 

Then  with  an  arrogance  and  finality  that  would 
have  done  credit  to  the  wizened  old  Countess  de 


456  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

Lamoureux  in  her  insolent  prime,  Stephanie  drew 
herself,  slender  and  uncompromising  and  trium 
phant,  to  her  utmost  stature,  and  dismissed  him, — 
unheard.  It  was  incredible.  But  what  had  he  to 
say?  What  could  he  have  said?  At  least  just 
then? 

She  was  right.  He  had  cared  most  for  her  con 
tribution  to  his  success.  And  he  had  it  still.  She 
had  covered  his  every  possibility  of  attack.  It 
remained  an  open  question  as  to  the  avenging  of 
Nicolai  Heathleagh.  Stephanie  had  squared  the 
dead  man's  account  as  to  the  poems,  but  had  his 
own  avenging  been  so  subtle  or  so  satisfactory, 
after  all?  It  was  almost  the  first  misgiving  Ra 
leigh  Payne  had  ever  been  forced  to  contemplate 
in  his  unmistaken  upward  career,  and  it  was  un 
pleasantly  blended  with  a  curiosity  as  to  how  much 
the  priest  had  been  told  by  her  in  confession,  and 
how  implicitly  he  might  be  relied  upon  to  keep 
his  own  counsel. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE   ROYAL   WAY  OF   THE   CROSS 

IT  was  very  still  at  Sky  High  in  those  first 
days  after  Steven  Randall's  unexpected  de 
parture  with  Stephanie.  He  had  raised  no 
least  objection  to  accompanying  her.  He  took  it 
all  as  a  matter  of  course,  on  her  representation  of 
her  need  of  him.  Servants  and  friends  were  alike 
confounded  by  the  nonchalance  with  which  he  left 
his  lounging  chair  for  an  ocean  voyage  in  mid 
winter, —  and  not  even  the  alleviation  of  the  south 
ern  route  before  him,  at  that.  The  excitement  of 
preparation,  and  the  actual  getting  off  improved 
his  spirits  in  spite  of  sinister  predictions  and  much 
shaking  of  heads  on  the  .part  of  a  disapproving 
chorus.  Perhaps  he  did  not  so  much  care  just 
where  death  overtook  him,  so  long  as  it  found 
him  doing  the  right  thing. 

It  occurred  to  Raleigh,  that  the  weariness  of 
waiting  for  release  might  well  have  become  intol 
erable  to  a  man  with  the  habit  of  the  world  in  his 
past  as  thoroughly  as  it  had  been  in  that  of  Steven 
Randall.  Everything  had  been  decided  so  sud 
denly  that  they  were  gone  before  even  the  imme 
diate  household  realised  their  intention  to  the  full 

457 


458  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

extent   or  enormity  of   the  invalid's   recklessness. 

The  miracle  of  peace  seemed  to  have  been 
wrought  in  Stephanie's  soul.  She  who  had  paced 
her  room  as  restlessly  as  any  nun  denied  the  sac 
rament  on  Good  Friday, —  harried  by  her  distrust 
of  Raleigh  and  his  intention  toward  her,  as  well 
as  her  speculation  as  to  the  true  nature  of  Law 
rence  Trent's  love  for  her,  seemed  to  have  been 
touched  by  a  divine  release.  With  perfect  gen 
tleness,  and  yet  remote  as  a  faithful  star,  she  shone 
upon  them  all  with  equally  distant  sweetness.  She 
forgave  perhaps  hoping  to  be  forgiven.  Possibly 
she  only  drew  herself  away  from  an  alien  environ 
ment  in  a  manner  to  give  as  little  pain  as  she 
could,  too  thankful  for  her  liberation  to  think  of 
the  distance  she  was  putting  between  herself  and 
the  man  whose  face  was  still  her  vision. 

At  the  last  moment,  on  the  last  morning  when 
the  trunks  were  being  carried  out,  and  the  hall 
doors  stood  wide  and  heartless  to  the  intrusion  of 
the  cold,  Joel  Underwood,  with  gall  and  worm 
wood  in  his  manner,  had  brought  Stephanie  a 
prodigal  bunch  of  heliotrope.  It  was  a  contradic 
tion  of  his  life  principles  more  eloquent  than  any 
verbal  farewell.  It  was  in  reality  an  apostasy. 

"  They'll  fade,  of  course,"  he  remarked  bitterly, 
"  sooner  than  camellias  or  carnations  would.  But 
while  they  last  they'll  smell  sweet,  and  nothing 
lasts  long,  anyhow." 


THE  ROYAL  WAY  OF  THE  CROSS     459 

The  pain  at  her  throat  had  almost  cut  her  as  she 
thanked  him  with  outstretched  hand,  remembering 
how  frail  and  transient  the  sweetest  memories  of 
Sky  High  had  been  to  her,  and  would  always  be. 

Joel  did  not  say  he  should  hope  to  see  her  back 
soon.  He  was  not  given  to  indulging  in  futile 
amenities.  He  expected  the  worst  and  was  in 
ured  to  its  varied  forms  of  attack.  In  this  up 
heaval  he  recognised  something  analogous  to  an 
early  frost  or  unseasonable  rose  lice,  and  he  was 
not  a  shallow  optimist  to  make  light  of  its  porten 
tous  disaster.  He  resigned  his  stems  of  purple 
fragrance  to  Mrs.  Raleigh  Payne,  very  much  as 
he  would  have  laid  them  with  equal  decorum  upon 
the  lid  of  her  coffin.  His  manner,  as  he  withdrew, 
was  a  nice  shade  between  the  funereal  and  the 
reproving. 

Raleigh  put  her  in  the  car,  kissing  her  without 
any  jot  of  difference  in  his  manner,  and  saying 
loud  enough  for  the  servants  to  hear  without  lis 
tening, — "  Have  a  good  voyage,  darling,  and  ca 
ble  from  Cherbourg!  Write  just  how  you  find 
things,  without  fail.'  I  wish  I  could  run  over  with 
you,  but  Uncle  Randall  will  be  as  good  as  a  dozen 
husbands!  If  it  was  not  for  this  sudden  cold  of 
mine  I  should  go  to  town  too,  and  see  you  off,  at 
least.  Don't  let  Uncle  Randall  over-tax  himself, 
will  you?  Jim  Trent  will  attend  to  everything 
his  man  cannot  do.  And  by  the  way,  where  is 


460  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

Uncle  Randall?    There  is  not  any  time  to  waste." 

Steven  Randall  stood  in  the  hall.  His  face  was 
a  tragedy  of  parting  with  all  he  held  most  sacred 
and  most  dear.  Raleigh  was  shocked  to  silence  at 
sight  of  it.  The  portraits  of  his  ancestors  looked 
down  upon  him  too,  mute  and  stern  in  their  heavy 
frames,  to  chide  or  to  exhort  as  one  might  con 
strue  their  painted  purpose.  He  broke  the  tensity 
of  the  situation,  only  by  a  determination  to  inter 
fere  at  any  cost. 

"  Uncle  Steven,  do  not  go ! "  he  cried  impul 
sively.  "  Let  me  entreat  you  before  it  is  too  late. 
This  winter  voyage  is  madness.  Let  me  send  a 
woman  with  Stephanie,  but  do  not  sacrifice  your 
self,  and  perhaps  rush  to  your  own  death,  for  a 
mere  bit  of  Quixotism !  " 

Randall's  grave  eyes  rested  on  one  beloved  vista 
after  another,  seen  perhaps  through  these  windows 
for  the  last  time,  except  as  memory  would  repeat 
them.  His  gaze  strayed  through  the  open  library 
door  to  his  books,  and  back  to  the  frozen  garden 
framed  by  the  crimson  curtains  that  almost  lent 
a  warmth  to  the  sleeping  hearts*  of  his  flowers  be 
neath  the  snow.  Then  holding  himself  erect,  he 
replied  curtly,  with  a  ring  of  steel  in  his  voice 
that  cut  to  the  quick: 

"  The  sins  of  men  are  mine,  not  those  of  angels, 
Raleigh.  I  have  never  feared  death,  or  failed  a 
woman  who  trusted  me.  I  am  nearing  seventy, 


THE  ROYAL  WAY  OF  THE  CROSS     461 

and  it  is  too  late  for  me  to  unlearn  my  creed.  It 
is  no  further  to  paradise  from  Vienna  than  from 
Sky  High,  if  God  and  you  are  one!  And  the 
woman  who  is  waiting  for  me,  being  an  angel, 
will  '  remember  and  understand.'  " 

It  was  in  the  hush  of  one  of  those  first  after 
noons,  that  the  bell  rang  harshly,  echoing  as  bells 
will,  almost  as  if  possessed  of  vindictive  conscious 
ness  of  their  broken  connection  with  humanity. 

The  message  repeated  at  the  door  was  a  spare 
one.  It  took  but  a  moment  to  repeat  it.  And  it 
was  Raleigh  Payne  this  time,  who  stood  alone  at 
the  window  and  watched  the  irate  back  and  stiffly 
uncompromising  shoulders  of  Jim  Trent's  younger 
brother  down  the  driveway;  exactly  as  Stephanie 
had  done  on  an  afternoon  in  early  spring,  the  first 
Sunday  after  their  chance  meeting  at  the  cottage 
of  Christine. 

Father  Mayhew  was,  or  supposed  himself  to  be, 
reading  his  breviary,  as  he  walked  up  and  down 
the  south  side  of  the  building  sanctified  as  a  par 
ish  house,  adjoining  the  church  and  parochial 
school.  He  had  risen  before  dawn  to  attend  the 
call  of  a  presumably  dying  man, —  who  had  incon 
sistently  improved  on  his  arrival, —  and  returned 
to  officiate  at  one  of  the  several  early  offices.  His 
luncheon  had  been  over  by  a  little  past  noon,  and 


462  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

the  warmth  of  the  sun  and  sense  of  momentary 
lull  from  the  active  exercise  of  his  religion  was 
grateful.  It  was  one  of  those  innocent  and  benign 
ministrations  of  Nature,  that  even  the  strictest 
priest  may  allow  himself  without  reproach,  if  he 
neglects  no  duty,  leaves  no  penance  unperformed 
thereby. 

The  narrow  garden  enclosed  by  a  high  wall  was 
in  wintry  ruin  of  course.  A  few  rose  leaves  only 
held  to  their  vines,  where  the  hips  and  haws  were 
already  frozen.  One  meagre  patch  of  mignonette 
had  somehow  braved  or  escaped  the  frost,  and 
made  a  deathly  sort  of  sweetness,  as  he  turned 
each  time  at  the  corner,  where  an  uneasy,  unsym 
pathetic  east  wind  cut  through  his  summer  habit. 
He  was  musing  vaguely  now  upon  the  tenacity  of 
such  sweet,  frail  things,  as  he  walked. 

He  had  been  a  priest  at  heart  from  boyhood ;  al 
ways,  one  might  say.  Rigour  had  no  repulsions 
for  his  seasoned  soul,  yet  to-day  strangely  enough 
he  basked  in  the  chill  sunshine,  noted  the  passing 
of  the  flowers  with  that  pathetic  love  of  them  no 
ticeable  in  celibates,  and  even  scattered  a  few 
crumbs  for  the  doves  on  the  church  roof  opposite ; 
prolonging  his  usual  quarter  of  an  hour  to  nearly 
double  his  wonted  time.  The  path  he  trod  led 
past  a  long  porch  with  a  bricked  floor,  trellised 
over  with  grape  vines  and  shut  in  at  one  end  by 
the  building.  The  long  wooden  settle,  that  ran 


THE  ROYAL  WAY  OF  THE  CROSS     463 

the  entire  length,  was  sheltered  from  the  wind, 
and  even  in  winter  afforded  a  possible  place  for  a 
noon-day  rest.  Indeed  the  winter  as  Sky  High 
knew  it  never  penetrated  this  more  southerly  loca 
tion,  and  was  always  a  backward  guest,  coming 
late  and  hastening  away  before  it  became  too  un 
welcome.  To-day  Father  Mayhew  had  already 
reached  the  porch  on  his  way  back  to  the  house, 
when  a  visiting  card  was  brought  to  him  by  a 
young  lay  brother,  who  coughed  as  the  east  wind 
penetrated  his  lungs  with  its  contracting  shiver. 
Father  Mayhew  chided  him  gently  for  venturing 
into  the  open  air  bare-headed,  and  pursued  his  in 
quiry  as  to  his  care  of  himself  and  progress  to 
ward  health,  for  the  moment  oblivious  of  the  er 
rand  that  had  brought  him.  Then  pausing  on  his 
way  in,  he  bade  the  visitor  sent  to  him  there.  The 
name  on  the  card  meant  nothing  to  him.  But  as 
Lawrence  Trent  stood  in  the  whitewashed  arch  of 
the  doorway,  for  an  instant  his  likeness  to.  a  Carlo 
Dolci  saint  in  the  Pitti  palace,  struck  him  so 
forcibly  that  he  believed  he  must  have  known  the 
man  before.  One  had  only  to  throw  the  lilied 
velvet  vestment  over  his  shoulders,  halo  the  head 
with  its  pale  brow  and  deep-set,  ascetic  eyes,  to 
remove  every  trace  of  the  modern  secular.  His 
scrutiny  was  returned,  if  he  had  been  less  preoc 
cupied  to  observe  it,  but  his  own  face  kept  its 
secrets  well  under  the  habitual  mask  of  the  priest. 


464  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

Trent  could  not  define  the  impression  he  got  of  it, 
even  to  himself.  He  had  always  held  that  the 
faces  of  priests  came  under  three  classifications: 
those  of  frank  satisfaction,  those  of  mortal  resig 
nation,  and  the  melodramatic  stamp  of  those  who 
enjoy  the  prominence  of  the  part  and  play  it  con 
sciously.  Under  none  of  the  three  could  he  place 
the  man  before  him,  who  waited  with  dignity,  yet 
all  possible  encouragement  of  manner,  for  him  to 
begin  the  explanation  of  his  own  presence  there. 
After  the  exchange  of  a  grave  and  formal  greet 
ing  he  was  at  loss  how  to  begin.  What  was  there 
to  say?  How  was  he  to  introduce  the  errand  that 
had  so  impulsively  brought  him?  Father  Mayhew 
noticed  his  confusion  and  making  it  his  own,  as 
sumed  himself  the  one  at  fault,  saying  as  if  to 
excuse  a  lack  of  memory  on  his  part: 

"  You  will  pardon  me  my  failure  to  remember 
your  name?  My  duties  are  among  so  many  hun 
dreds  of  men.  We  have  met  before  undoubtedly, 
but  I  must  ask  you  to  remind  me  of  the  circum 
stances." 

"  It  is  I  who  should  ask  pardon  for  intruding 
upon  your  solitude,"  Trent  began,  but  Father  May- 
hew  waived  his  apology.  "  It  is  never  an  in 
trusion  for  a  priest  to  be  sought  by  one  who  has 
need  of  him,"  he  said  assuringly.  "  All  his  people 
are  equally  his  to  care  for,  as  he  is  theirs  to  serve." 

"  I  have  not  even  that  justification,"  Trent  ad- 


THE  ROYAL  WAY  OF  THE  CROSS     465 

mitted  with  regret.  His  voice  always  dropped  at 
the  end  of  his  sentences,  as  if  too  wistful  or  too 
weary  to  bear  the  burden  of  his  feeling  to  the  end. 
The  priest  noted  it. 

"  Will  you  sit  down  ?  "  he  asked,  motioning  to 
the  wooden  bench.  "  Or  do  you  prefer  to  go  in 
doors?  The  afternoon  fire  is  not  lighted  yet,  and 
the  open  air  is  really  less  chill  in  the  sun." 

Trent  acquiesced  in  silence.  "  The  outlook  here 
is  contracted,"  Father  Mayhew  continued,  trying 
to  put  him  at  his  ease,  "  but  the  opportunity  for 
the  spirit  to  soar  is  perhaps  doubly  enhanced, —  to 
the  church  and  heaven  beyond  the  church."  As 
he  spoke  the  wind  crept  closer  through  the  vines 
and  a  few  of  the  remaining  rose  leaves  shuddered 
and  fell.  He  turned  to  Trent  kindly,  but  as  if  to 
remind  him  that  time  counted,  even  in  sacred  mat 
ters,  and  the  days  of  summer  were  already  long 
gone  by. 

"  How  can  I  help  you  ?  "  he  begged.  A  heavy 
bell  chimed  one.  Trent  started.  That  was  the 
hour  Stephanie  dreaded  most  to  hear  toll  at  night, 
—  the  supernatural  hour.  Instantly  its  association 
flashed  her  before  him.  He  saw  her  and  all  his 
need  for  love, —  and  the  necessity  of  its  abnega 
tion  pressed  upon  him  and  urged  him  on  — 

"  I  do  not  know  how  you  can  help  me, —  or  that 
you  can  help  me.  I  only  know  I  want  help,"  he 
confessed. 


466  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

"  We  all  need  that  sooner  or  later,  at  some  time 
in  our  lives,  but  of  what  sort?  What  has  failed 
you  in  which  you  trusted  ?  " 

Trent  arose  and  stood  before  the  priest.  He 
folded  his  arms,  holding  his  elbows  in  his  hands 
in  his  old  characteristic  grip,  denoting  extreme  ef 
fort  at  self-control.  "  I  came  because  a  Catholic 
once  asked  me  to  come,"  he  said. 

"What  was  his  name?" 

"  It  was  not  a  man." 

There  was  a  silence  during  which  the  pigeons 
gurgled  contentedly  from  the  church  roof.  The 
priest  also  arose.  "If  you  came  for  confession," 
he  suggested,  "  shall  we  not  go  inside  ?  "  motion 
ing  toward  the  open  door  of  the  church  as  he 
spoke. 

"  It  is  only  a  lay  confession,"  Trent  explained 
rather  reluctantly,  "  for  I  am  not  of  your  com 
munion.  I  am  an  Anglican  Catholic.  May  I 
speak  to  you,  never-the-less,  under  the  seal  of  the 
confessional,  but  informally  ?  " 

"  Assuredly,  my  dear  son.  And  may  God  give 
you  his  blessing  upon  your  holy  impulse  to  seek 
counsel  and  guidance  from  his  priests ! "  He 
traced  the  sign  of  the  cross  between  them,  and 
re-seated  himself,  but  Trent  remained  standing  re 
spectfully. 

"  Mrs.  Raleigh  Payne  sent  me  to  you,"  he  said, 
without  further  prelude. 


THE  ROYAL  WAY  OF  THE  CROSS     467 

"  Yes.  Why  ?  "  Father  Mayhew's  countenance 
evinced  no  more  curiosity  or  interest  even,  than 
the  bleak  side  of  the  grey  stone  wall  untouched 
by  the  scant  sunshine. 

"  Because  you  are  her  confessor  and  I  am 
her  lover."  His  mouth,  that  the  priest  had 
thought  saintly,  had  the  set  beauty  of  martyrdom 
now. 

"  Avowedly  ?  "    The  question  was  crucial. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  avowedly  ?  " 

"  I  mean  does  she  know  it  ?  Is  the  relation  rec 
ognised  between  you,  and  of  how  long  standing, 
—  to  what  degree  of  sin?" 

"  There  has  been  no  sin, —  that  is  — " 

Father  Mayhew  did  not  wait  for  the  conclusion 
of  the  sentence.  "  You  are  hardly  in  a  condition 
to  judge,  since  the  light  of  the  world  even  can  be 
put  out  by  a  blind  passion,"  he  said  with  more  pa 
tience  than  rebuke.  "  I  am  obliged  from  the  na 
ture  of  my  sacred  office  to  repeat  my  question.  It 
is  of  vital  importance  technically  or  spiritually, 
since  a  reserved  confession  from  her  would  only 
heighten  her  guilt,  and  the  absolution  given  be 
worse  than  none,  rendering  her  soul  doubly  im 
perilled." 

"  Avowedly ;  innocently  in  the  sight  of  the  law." 

"  But  in  the  sight  of  God?" 

Trent  faced  him  hotly.  "  Who  is  innocent  in 
the  sight  of  God?  She  is  another  man's  wife  and 


468  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

I  love  her  more  than  anything  in  the  world !  "  he 
cried. 

"  Then  you  will  not  destroy  her  hope  of  the 
next."  The  earnest  words  were  full  of  faith  in 
him,  and  confident  of  his  right  desire. 

Trent's  face  was  like  a  sacrificial  flame.  It  was 
the  priest's  turn  to  be  silenced,  as  he  heard  him 
say  with  a  sort  of  desperation, — "  You  think  me  a 
blasphemer  and  an  adulterer  at  heart.  I  am  not, 
nor  is  she.  She  was  sold  to  a  man  who  pursued 
her  for  his  own  ends,  a  man  who  loves  himself 
and  his  own  career  better  than  his  wife  or  his 
God.  We  met  by  no  effort  of  our  own,  and  loved 
in  spite  of  ourselves.  I  fought  inch  by  inch  from 
the  first  moment,  with  prayer  and  fasting,  and 
then  with  the  worldly  weapons  of  travel,  distrac 
tion,  change.  I  barricaded  myself  behind  self-re 
spect,  I  took  every  antidote  I  knew,  and  no  for- 
getfulness  came — " 

Still  the  priest  did  not  speak. 

"  Of  course  you  think  her  whole  duty  is  toward 
her  faultless  paragon  of  a  husband.  You  con 
demn  me  as  a  spiritual  outcast  and  you  approve 
him  because  he  has  not  wronged  her  by  common 
infidelity.  He  has  your  sanction  to  destroy  her 
life  and  forbid  her  religion,  but  because  he  is  her 
husband  you  will  not  dispense  any  form  of  relief 
from  this  domestic  oppression !  " 

"  She  has  been  deprived  the  exercise  of  her  re- 


THE  ROYAL  WAY  OF  THE  CROSS     469 

ligion,  you  said  ? "  Father  Mayhew  asked.  He 
had  pondered  not  a  little  on  the  sequence  of  that 
single  confession,  on  the  occasion  of  his  summer 
mission  in  those  New  Hampshire  hills.  The 
young  French  priest,  Father  Damare,  associated 
with  him  for  a  few  months,  had  prodded  him  as  to 
the  spiritual  welfare  of  this  daughter  of  the 
French  convent  of  the  Holy  Mother,  whose  Su 
perior  was  deeply  concerned  for  the  outcome  of 
her  marriage  with  a  heretic.  His  attention  nar 
rowed  as  Trent  went  on. 

"  From  the  first  every  obstacle  has  been  put  in 
her  way.  It  is  easy  for  a  man  in  power  to  thwart 
a  woman,  without  seeming  to  do  it  intentionally! 
She  was  forbidden  to  go  to  you  or  send  for  you. 
He  took  her  right  of  appeal  for  your  sacred  guid 
ance  from  her,  and  now  he  takes  her  right  of 
consolation  from  her,  and  her  poor  heart  is  dis 
tracted,  torn,  with  no  one  to  sustain  her!  We 
love  each  other,  but  it  is  a  sin.  They  are  nothing 
to  each  other,  and  theirs  is  a  virtuous  marriage 
on  both  sides,  without  love.  What  can  we  do? 
Help  us!  She  felt  that  you  could.  She  must 
have  known  you  could,  for  she  told  me  when  the 
memory  of  our  parting  became  unbearable,  to  go 
to  you.  She  felt  that  in  the  divine  resource  there 
must  be  some  way  known  to  your  wisdom  alone. 
When  marriage  is  a  farce  it  is  a  profanation  of 
the  sacrament,  and  its  object  is  blasphemed  while 


470  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

the  highest  feeling  of  the  holy  of  holies  is  out 
raged.  What  is  religion  for,  if  is  it  not  to  right 
such  wrongs?  God  is  love, —  at  least  He  says  so." 

"  God  is  love,  He  is  never  lust,"  the  priest  cor 
rected  gravely. 

The  blood  flamed  in  Trent's  face,  then  sank, 
leaving  him  whiter  than  before. 

"  My  poor  child !  "  Oh,  the  compassion  on  the 
priest's  face  now,  as  he  spoke, —  yet  was  it  en 
tirely  compassion ?  "I  know  so  much  more,  and 
deeper  than  you  suppose!  I  am  Mrs.  Raleigh 
Payne's  confessor.  I  have  received  constant  so 
licitude  for  her  from  her  spiritual  director  abroad. 
Her  grandmother,  who  so  recently  died  in  the 
faith,  was  continually  instigating  efforts  on  her 
behalf.  The  faithful  never  relax  their  vigilance. 
There  is  more  extenuation  for  her  than  you  con 
ceive  or  a  priest  may  admit,  bound  by  the  seal. 
Do  not  misunderstand  me  as  raising  guilty  hopes 
or  extending  encouragement  for  their  satisfaction, 
but  even  a  priest  may  admit  milder  penance  for 
sin  under  circumstances  of  heretical  oppression. 
It  shall  be  accorded  her.  Be  at  peace  in  that  re 
spect.  There  is  but  little  more  I  can  say  to  you  " 
—  he  paused,  and  lifted  his  searching  eyes  to  those 
of  the  man  before  him.  "  If  you  were  of  my  own 
communion  — "  he  suggested.  "  Why  are  you 
not?" 

"  It  is  strange  that  I  should  have  come  to  you 


THE  ROYAL  WAY  OF  THE  CROSS     471 

to-day,"  Trent  replied  frankly,  "  when  the  chief 
objection  to  me  in  the  Roman  Catholic  faith  has 
always  been  the  confessional.  I  have  always  pro 
fessed  to  scorn  the  idea  of  a  man  between  my  con 
science  and  God ! " 

"  It  is  more  strange  that  you  could  feel  so,  when 
God  has  always  chosen  that  way,  always  ordained 
a  man  to  do  the  most  divine  and  revealing  work 
upon  earth.  It  is  a  mistake  of  men  outside  the 
faith,  to  think  of  a  confessor  as  a  wall,  when  they 
should  think  of  him  as  a  bridge.  You  cannot  see 
for  yourself.  You  are  blinded  by  human  desire. 
The  flesh  cries  out  for  human  nearness,  but  in 
nearness  of  spirit  only  is  there  real  delight.  In 
timacy  between  mortals  is  an  idea  only.  It  can 
not  exist.  It  leaves  a  space  between,  that  no  pos 
sible  contact  can  efface.  ..The  communion  of 
saints  is  a  never-ending  celebration.  Let  your  soul 
long  for  contact  in  spiritual  communion,  for  the 
human  can  never  assuage,  and  the  divine  Unap 
proachable  is  the  only  lasting  ideal  that  can  never 
disappoint  because  man  can  never  prove  it  reached. 
It  stimulates  but  never  satiates.  Confession  is 
salutary,  and  comforting  even  if  one  stumbles  and 
falls  in  his  noble  effort  after  perfection." 

"  And  even  if  a  man  sinned  again,  would  he 
find  forgiveness  in  your  eyes  ?  " 

Father  Mayhew  realised  how  much  harder  upon 
himself  this  pure  spirit  would  be,  than  any  whose 


472  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

voluntary  confession  was  the  result  of  inured  habit. 
He  saw  that  evil  was  sickening  and  strange  to 
this  troubled  soul,  and  so  he  told  him  gently  of 
the  good  Saint  Filippo  Neri,  and  a  youth  refused 
absolution.  How  the  Saint  absolved  him  freely, 
only  imposing  another  confession  should  he  re 
lapse,  how  three  days  later  he  returned  with  the 
same  sin  upon  him,  and  for  a  month  this  went  on, 
till  victory  was  gained  and  the  youth  reached  a 
stage  of  angelic  perfection. 

"  Some  sins  one  might  break  from " —  Trent 
said  wistfully,  at  the  conclusion.  "  I  have  always 
considered  love  was  a  virtue.  It  is  hard  to  see  it 
in  an  ugly  light,  with  crime  and  the  brood  of  outer 
darkness." 

"  There  are  mortals  and  venials,"  Father  May- 
hew  reminded  him.  "  Temporary  fires  suffice  for 
the  '  minuta  peccata.'  There  are  penances  vary 
ing  from  pilgrimages,  fasts,  and  daily  religious 
exercises,  to  the  giving  of  alms,  acts  of  mercy,  and 
the  lighter  forms  of  advice  and  prayer  open  for 
your  release  from  the  stain  that  has  soiled  your 
soul." 

"  I  have  confessed ! "  Trent  said  stolidly,  his 
arms  not  once  unfolded.  "  Inflict  any  punishment 
upon  me,  only  let  me  love  her!  Find  some  way 
that  we  may  hold  to  each  other  without  sin !  Some 
way  to  thwart  the  awful  laws  of  death  and  the 
shrouded  secret  of  first  cause,  the  desolation  of 


THE  ROYAL  WAY  OF  THE  CROSS     473 

passion,  the  utter  contradiction  of  love  in  tempta 
tion  ! " 

Father  Mayhew's  hands  tightened  on  his  brevi 
ary.  "  Temptation  is  not  reserved  for  the  laity, 
my  son,"  he  warned,  as  if  in  the  presence  of  a 
visible  antagonist.  "  The  terrible  temptations  of 
the  sacerdotal  career  you  know  nothing  of.  You 
will  find  many  an  unworthy  priest  who  holds  him 
self  blameless  if  he  has  given  no  scandal.  It  has 
always  been  so.  But  the  laxity  and  rigour  of  pen 
ance  and  its  saving  grace,  only  divine  wisdom  can 
ever  effect  with  perfection  of  justice." 

"  Yes,  and  even  if  you  absolved  me,  and  I  per 
formed  whatever  you  bade  me,  my  sin  would  be 
ever  before  me,"  was  the  unspoken  answer  of 
Trent's  own  heart.  And  yet  if  Stephanie's  con 
science  could  be  disburdened,  could  he  not  risk  his 
own  punishment?  Ought  he  not,  since  he  had 
assisted  at  the  tragic  linking  of  their  fates?  And 
while  he  speculated  thus,  Father  Mayhew  was 
tempted  with  a  different  form  of  evil.  To  him, 
murder  was  less  a  sin  than  deliberate  heresy. 
Voting  for  a  liberal  had  cost  more  than  one  Cath 
olic  his  sacramental  privilege.  He  was,  like  every 
priest,  unscrupulous  without  hesitation  in  resort 
ing  to  control  of  the  ballot  in  matters  of  Catholic 
education  for  Catholic  children.  Raleigh  Payne 
had  fought  against  this  use  of  the  confessional, 
with  his  party  behind  him,  supporting  his  denun- 


474  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

elation  of  it  as  abuse  detrimental  to  the  liberal 
principles  of  American  democracy.  The  political 
struggle  was  already  assuming,  in  some  quarters, 
the  definiteness  of  an  issue.  The  Church  had  rea 
son  to  strike  and  strike  hard,  and  the  adversary 
being  a  heretic  and  in  error  had,  in  the  priestly 
mind,  no  defence.  The  secrecy  of  the  confes 
sional  had  put  a  slight  but  most  important  weapon 
in  his  hand.  He  had  only  to  concede  his  motive 
sufficient  excuse  to  expose  a  dishonesty,  which 
though  in  itself  unpolitical,  would  argue  for  a  flaw 
in  the  spotless  character  of  a  man  urgent  against 
the  Catholic  interest.  The  breach  in  secrecy 
could  be  covered  in  a  way  that  would  perfectly 
conceal  its  origin.  Neither  the  priest  nor  his  pen 
itent  would  ever  suffer  from  the  exposure  of  Ra 
leigh  Payne.  There  were  subtle  channels,  hidden 
agencies,  and  here  now  was  a  man, —  who  needed 
only  the  shadow  of  a  hint  of  the  truth  to  bring 
about  the  same  result  without  other  intervention. 

The  two  men  were  far  apart,  yet  curiously  united 
by  the  undercurrents  of  their  thoughts  as  they 
stood  deliberating  their  situation.  Lawrence 
Trent  had  no  clew  as  to  what  was  passing  in  the 
mind  of  Father  Mayhew.  When  he  spoke,  it  was 
to  throw  himself  on  the  priest's  resourceful  in 
tuition  again. 

"  I  am  walled  in  by  two  inevitables,"  he  said. 
"  The  facts  are  as  they  are.  If  I  could  change  I 


THE  ROYAL  WAY  OF  THE  CROSS     475 

would.  But  I  cannot.  Even  if  she  forgot  all  her 
sanctity  of  soul,  I  could  not  outrage  God.  I  have 
got  to  go  on  being  myself.  I  want  only  one  thing 
more  than  I  want  her.  I  fear  only  one  thing 
more  than  living  without  her.  It  is  physical  pain, 
it  is  deadening  paralysis  of  my  will,  to  love  as  I 
am  doomed  to,  but  there  is  a  blacker  abyss  than 
life  without  love,  and  that  would  be  life  without 
God.  I  cannot  imagine  it.  There  must  be  some 
way  to  reconcile  the  two  loves.  I  do  not  know 
what  is  right  or  possible  for  her,  or  for  me.  You 
are  a  man  of  clarified  vision  and  sacred  life.  It 
is  your  profession  to  help  those  who  trust  in  you. 
What  life  is  there  for  us,  except  in  death?  The 
mortal  death  of  Raleigh  Payne  or  our  own  eternal 
damnation?  If  you  know,  by  whatever  means,  of 
any  possible  reason  to  justify  us  for  what  we  have 
already  done,  or  to  save  us  from  worse,  for  God's 
sake  forget  you  are  a  priest,  and  be  man  enough  to 
guide  us  by  your  knowledge  of  the  case,  no  mat 
ter  how  you  came  by  it ! " 

Father  Mayhew's  face  was  not  free  from  per 
plexity.  He  laid  a  restraining  hand  on  Trent's 
arm,  as  if  to  mutely  counsel  patience  and  forti 
tude  — "  Pain  is  holier  than  joy,  being  a  reflection 
of  the  crucified,"  he  suggested  — 

"  There  are  crucifixions  and  crucifixions ! " 
Trent  broke  in.  "And  the  mortal  misery  of  our 
latter-day  sort  is  that  they  do  not  save  a  world, 


476  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

or  often  even  the  souls  we  die  to  save ! "  He 
stopped  himself  with  visible  effort,  and  said  quietly, 
with  that  touch  of  weariness  that  betrayed  long 
effort  at  control,  "  I  am  shocking  you,  of  course, 
but  let  me  show  you  all  my  impiety!  I  rage  that 
God  made  man  so  that  a  woman  can  un-do  his  will. 
Why  is  his  reason  set  aside  by  the  thought  of  her? 
What  is  this  savage  craving  in  him,  that  stalks  un 
abated  after  centuries  of  our  boasted  civilisation? 
Where  is  a  man  safe,  or  his  honour  unassailable, 
if  he  is  to  be  undermined  in  spite  of  his  religion 
and  his  duty,  so  that  nothing  is  left  to  him  but  a 
face  —  or  the  awful  lack  of  one?  Do  not  blame 
her ! "  he  cried  suddenly,  terrified  lest  he  had 
seemed  to  do  so  himself, — "  When  she  comes  to 
you  for  consolation,  as  she  surely  will,  in  spite  of 
him,  give  her  all  gentleness,  all  hope,  for  it  is 
never  the  woman's  fault.  I  did  it.  I  am  the  one 
to  suffer." 

The  priest  said  nothing  to  show  what  was  pass 
ing  beneath  the  surface  of  his  thoughts.  "  Love 
of  the  flesh  is  a  flame,  soon  blown  out " —  he 
urged,  soothing  the  torn  spirit  as  if  it  belonged  to 
a  little  child, — "  it  is  an  appetite  soon  sated,  un 
stable,  temporal,  unequal  to  the  cloudy  music  made 
by  angelic  rapture  of  a  victorious  triumphant  soul. 
You  have  passed  through  deep  waters,  and  may 
all  you  have  suffered  and  all  the  tribulation  you 
may  in  future  bear  from  your  wrong  desires,  be 


THE  ROYAL  WAY  OF  THE  CROSS     477 

to  you  for  absolution!  My  sxm,  temptation  takes 
many  forms.  It  is  not  alone  the  devil's  instrument 
to  destroy  a  soul,  but  God's  own  visitation  of 
grace  to  insure  a  tried  perfection.  It  is  written 
for  our  edification  by  one  of  the  most  blessed  of 
the  Saints,  that  temptation  is  profitable,  for  in  it 
a  man  is  humbled,  and  you  have  yourself  profited, 
in  that  you  have  distrusted  your  own  strength  and 
pride  in  coming  here,  taking  the  first  step  toward 
the  only  true  Way.  For  it  is  written,  '  Thou  art 
man  and  not  God.  Thou  art  flesh  and  not  angel.' 
Angels  in  heaven  have  fallen,  as  did  the  first  man 
in  paradise.  There  was  never  Saint  that  was  not 
tempted.  What  does  it  matter,  if  suffering  attains 
unto  salvation?  If  there  were  any  better  thing 
than  suffering  Christ  would  have  shown  it ! "  He 
paused,  and  after  a  few  moments  of  inward  strug 
gle,  known  only  to  himself,  continued  earnestly, 
with  lowered  voice, — "  A  priest  may  not  reveal, 
but  he  may  safely  counsel  from,  the  confession  of 
a  sinner.  His  temptation  may  come  in  that  holy 
guise,  to  be  overcome  not  by  his  own  power  but 
the  grace  of  the  cross, —  reminding  him  that  evil 
may  not  be  done  that  good  may  come  of  it.  For 
it  is  written  that  if  a  man  cast  away  the  cross  he 
will  surely  find  another.  And  as  another  Saint 
has  written, — '  thou  shalt  ever  find  the  cross,  the 
cross  is  ever  ready  and  ever  awaits  thee.  Thou 
can'st  not  escape  it  wherever  thou  shalt  run  or  go. 


478  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

Thou  earnest  thyself  with  thee  and  shall  ever  find 
thyself.  But  go  where  thou  wilt,  seek  what  thou 
wilt,  there  is  no  higher  way  above  or  safer  way 
below  than  the  way  of  the  holy  cross ' ! "  If 
Father  Mayhew  had  wrestled  for  his  own  victory, 
forgetful  of  Trent,  the  light  in  his  eyes  was  as 
surance  of  deliverance  from  his  momentary  im 
pulse  of  revenge.  "  I  must  leave  you  for  a  time," 
he  said,  as  the  bell  struck  the  half  hour.  "  Medi 
tate  on  the  eternal  truth,  here  or  in  the  church. 
Wait  for  me,  or  go  if  you  will,  and  God  t)e  with 
you  and  give  you  the  only,  true  peace  and 
light!" 

"  Only  one  moment  more," —  Trent  begged,  as 
if  waking  from  a  trance.  "  There  is  one  question 
I  must  ask,  for  the  sake  of  purity  and  my  faith  in 
women  forever.  It  is  the  question  that  brought 
me  here  to-day.  I  do  not  ask  you  to  tell  me  where 
she  is.  I  ask  only,  as  she  told  me  to  ask  of  you, 
if  in  your  sight  she  has  been  blameless  in  the  past? 
I  mean  until  this  present  fault  for  which  I  am  re 
sponsible.  Her  husband  has  sworn  to  the  con 
trary.  You  are  her  confessor — "  he  did  not  finish. 
The  inference  was  too  obvious. 

Father  Mayhew  was  silent.  To  what  might  his 
answer  lead?  The  importance  of  its  issue  made 
him  pause  and  consider.  And  again  the  reverend 
Father  did  not  so  much  blame  the  woman  for  her 
present  weakness.  Her  husband  was  a  heretic  and 


THE  ROYAL  WAY  OF  THE  CROSS     479 

a  bitter  partisan  in  the  recent  fight  against  the 
parochial  educational  interests;  opening  wedge  of 
the  detested  modernism.  Raleigh  Payne  stood 
pledged  to  all  the  Catholics  opposed.  For  a  mo 
ment  the  sacred  priest  and  astute  politician  buried 
in  Father  Mayhew  came  to  the  surface  face  to 
face.  If  this  man  had  lied  once  —  twice  —  he 
would  again.  He  need  not  hurry  event.  If  he 
merely  pronounced  this  woman  blameless,  would 
it  mean  that  in  future  she  was  to  be  respected  and 
given  over,  a  victim  of  heretical  oppression?  Or 
if  blameless,  and  her  husband  thereby  branded  a 
liar,  would  human  antagonism  aroused  in  the  lover 
before  him,  seek  its  own  satisfaction,  and  the 
Church  find  a  swift  and  hidden  avenger?  What 
man  would  hear  the  honour  of  the  woman  he  loved 
falsely  accused?  On  the  contrary  he  had  only  to 
•refuse  to  answer,  to  insure  her  from  further  il 
legitimate  pursuit,  since  no  man  would  follow  a 
light  woman  far,  if  his  was  a  nature  possessed  by 
righteousness,  such  as  the  man  now  before  him 
had  unconsciously  revealed.  He  could  save  the 
woman  by  a  compromising  silence.  He  could  also 
save  the  lover, —  perhaps  for  the  priesthood.  He 
could  expose  the  husband  by  one  condemning 
word,  and  since  she  who  made  the  confession  had 
given  him  liberty  to  speak,  there  would  be  no 
breach  of  the  sacred  seal  implied.  What  was 
best,  holiest,  for  them  all,  he  was  hard  pressed  to 


480  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

determine  without  discrediting  the  woman  s  record 
by  seeming  to  hesitate. 

It  was  the  decision  of  but  a  moment.  Trent 
waited,  without  seeming  to  breathe. 

"  She  is  blameless,"  was  the  brief  response. 
Truth  had  won,  through  the  priestly  habit  of  im 
plicit  obedience  regardless  of  individual  reason. 

Father  Mayhew  returned  to  find  the  porch 
empty.  The  east  wind  complained,  and  the  rasp 
ing  of  the  dry  branches  alone  broke  the  silence  of 
the  afternoon.  But  prayer  would  follow  and  un 
failingly  shield  the  faithful,  and  God  knew  where 
the  boy  was,  and  would  protect  him.  He  felt  rea 
sonably  sure  that  he  would  come  back.  The 
Church  had  been  less  stern  with  that  young  soul 
than  he  had  been  with  himself.  Even  a  priest 
could  not  hold  the  same  degree  of  harshness  as 
the  uncompromising  rigour  of  youth  toward  its 
first  grave  fault. 

And  Trent  meantime,  in  one  of  his  vivid  reac 
tions  from  monk  to  minstrel,  had  let  himself  out 
of  the  garden;  the  mood  of  passioning  cities  call 
ing  him  to  life,  rather  than  the  killing  of  self  and 
mortifying  of  desire,  and  filled  with  the  one  su 
preme  purpose  of  going  to  Stephanie,  wherever 
she  was,  to  tell  her  what  a  dupe  he  had  been.  He 
knew  now  that  she  loved  him.  It  was  a  lie  that 
she  had  ever  loved  that  other  man!  He  wanted 


THE  ROYAL  WAY  OF  THE  CROSS     481 

only  to  abase  himself  for  his  vile  distrust  of  her, 
to  make  her  know  how  gloriously  her  disdain  of 
self-vindication  had  skied  her  in  his  love.  That 
was  all.  And  for  him  that  was  enough.  He  had 
been  absolutely  sincere  in  his  fortnight  of  renun 
ciation  and  asceticism,  and  he  was  absolutely  un 
affected  in  his  return  to  the  joy  of  the  world. 
That  was  Trent,  for  better  or  for  worse!  He  was 
his  own  cross  as  Father  Mayhew  had  shrewdly  sus 
pected. 

As  he  boarded  the  flying  express  train  for  New 
York,  the  prayer  of  Saint  Augustine  was  sub-con 
sciously  his :  "  O  God,  make  me  good, —  but  not 
now ! "  The  Catholic  communion  dwelt  on  the 
killing  of  self,  and  he  had  never  cared  so  much  to 
live  before.  To  be  alive  in  bodily  sense,  in  men 
tal  vigour!  Was  it  a  fit  ending  for  a  career  of 
promise  favourably  begun,  to  throw  away  the  hon 
ours  he  had  already  won?  To  ignore  the  talent 
that  only  secular  life  could  fully  develop?  The 
words  of  Grandee,  not  those  of  the  priest,  clung 
to  him  approved,  and  would  not  let  him  go, — "  Re 
member,  there  is  no  value  in  a  useless  sacrifice. 
Do  not  be  a  fool  for  Christ's  sake.  Use  your  rea 
son  in  all  things." 

Ah,  yes,  Grandee  knew  what  life  meant,  and  life 
abundantly  too.  He  himself  cared  little  for  so 
ciety,  but  he  had  his  books,  his  music,  his  studies, 
and  now  this  provocative,  sweet,  adorable,  proud 


482  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

woman  creature,  who  tormented  him  and  aroused 
all  his  protest  and  anger  against  her  control  over 
him,  and  yet  gave  life  again  all  the  colour  and 
aroma  he  had  ever  hoped  or  dreamed.  He  would 
find  her,  tell  her  —  and  the  world  might  end  or  be 
gin  there,  as  she  willed. 


THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

WHATEVER  remorse  or  compunction 
Raleigh  felt,  he  exhausted  in  punctil 
ious  attention  to  every  detail  of  Sky 
High's  care  and  ordered  procedure  in  the  absence 
of  the  master.  Everything  was  to  go  on  just  as 
usual.  The  horses  would  be  exercised  daily,  only 
an  extra  maid  or  two  would  be  dispensed  with. 
When  the  sunshine  called  loudly  enough  to  wake 
the  daffodils  and  jonquils,  the  bulbs  would  prick 
up  in  the  familiar  corners  and  be  followed  by  the 
customary  gorgeous  sequence  of  bloom,  to  find 
him  or  find  him  not,  as  it  might  happen.  But 
Joel  would  grimly  help  them  to  do  their  part  to 
ward  his  absent  or  present  delight  in  the  ancestral 
home  that  enshrined  his  heart.  Still  Raleigh  lin 
gered  on.  There  was  nothing  to  keep  him,  and 
no  society  beyond  his  own  or  that  of  the  villagers, 
and  they  never  stepped  out  of  their  tracks  to  avail 
themselves  of  his  conversation;  merely  passing  the 
time  of  day  if  they  chanced  to  meet  him  upon  the 
highway;  letting  well  enough  alone,  after  the  habit 
of  taciturnity  bred  by  lives  aloof  from  interchange 

483 


484  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

of  opinion,  or  absorbed  in  the  daily  struggle  for 
existence. 

Christine,  warned  by  Jim's  solicitude  for  his 
brother  mute  and  miserable,  had  rushed  up  from 
town  to  lay  matters  before  Grandee,  only  to  find 
him  gone,  and  Raleigh  in  an  unsatisfactory  state 
of  civil  platitude,  sweeping  over  her  concern  for 
them  all,  and  excusing  himself  for  being  there  by 
the  accumulated  press  of  affairs  he  had  found 
awaiting  him  on  his  return.  She  had  invaded 
the  library  and  his  innermost  counsel,  without 
apology. 

"  You  look  very  handsome  in  your  black  furs. 
How  is  Jim  ?  "  he  asked,  after  the  first  greetings 
had  been  exchanged  and  the  blow  of  Grandee's 
departure  somewhat  softened.  If  he  hoped  to 
turn  her  aside  to  some  less  vital  topic,  he  was  not 
flattered  by  his  success,  for  she  disowned  his  at 
tempt  openly. 

"  What  has  happened,  really  ? "  she  demanded. 
"  What  does  it  all  mean, —  Stephanie  dashing  off 
to  Europe  at  this  season  and  Grandee  looking  like 
a  steel  engraving  when  your  name  is  mentioned, 
and  Lawrence  not  sleeping  and  growing  to  look 
more  like  a  Catholic  Saint  in  a  dirty  Italian  church, 
every  day  ?  " 

"  Then  you  have  seen  Uncle  Steven  ?  "  he  sug 
gested.  She  had  overlooked  her  own  contradic 
tion  in  her  troubled  haste  to  make  Raleigh  talk  to 


THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS  485 

her  freely.  She  saw  her  blunder  and  blushed  for 
it  glowingly. 

"  No,  I  have  not  seen  him,"  she  replied,  "  but 
Jim  told  me  how  he  looked.  Of  course  no  one 
could  have  imagined  he  was  sailing  without  saying 
good-bye,  or  telling  any  of  us  his  plans !  " 

"  It  was  rather  sporty,  was  it  not  ? "  Raleigh 
said,  smiling  appreciatively.  "  He  promised  to  let 
Jim  see  to  everything  that  his  own  man  servant 
might  not  prove  equal  to." 

"  We  heard  nothing  of  them,  knew  nothing,  un 
til  Jim  met  Grandee  on  his  way  out  of  the  bank 
where  he  deposits.  They  chatted  a  few  minutes, 
and  then  Doctor  Wylin  drove  up  in  his  car  and  took 
Grandee  in,  and  Jim  supposed  there  was  nothing 
more  in  it  than  a  little  trip  to  town  with  a  con 
sultation  for  objective.  Afterward  he  recalled 
how  Grandee  changed,  when  he  answered  the  in 
quiry  for  your  health  and  next  move  on  the  polit 
ical  chess  board." 

"  And  so  you  came  post  haste  to  scold  me,  be 
cause  Uncle  Randall  was  clever  enough  to  keep 
his  affairs  to  himself  and  leave  you  all  in  the 
dark ! "  He  refused  to  treat  any  of  it  as  mys 
terious  or  surprising. 

Christine  drew  a  straight,  hard  chair  nearer  the 
table  and  sat  down.  "  You  have  got  to  tell  me 
everything,  Raleigh,  so  why  trouble  to  beat  about 
the  bush?  I  cannot  help  any  of  you  unless  I 


486  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

know  what  is  at  the  bottom  of  all  this  muddle. 
And  I  must  help  you,  because  I  love  you  all,  and 
because  Jim  must  not  take  the  time  or  be  worried 
about  anything  until  he  has  finished  the  stupendous 
case  he  is  in.  I  came  to  stop  his  worrying-  about 
Lawrence,  and  help  him  keep  his  mind  clear  for 
his  work.  So  please  be  frank  and  spare  me  your 
diplomatic  tendencies." 

Raleigh  repeated  his  lingo  in  regard  to  the  in 
heritance  of  Stephanie  from  her  grandmother,  the 
importance  of  her  immediate  presence  at  Vienna, 
his  .uncle's  unwillingness  to  have  her  go  without 
one  of  them,  and  his  own  inability  to  get  away  at 
just  this  present  time.  She  was  too  polite  to  show 
him  that  she  did  not  believe  him,  but  he  had  more 
difficulty  in  getting  her  to  understand  why  he  re 
mained  where  he  was,  when  all  there  was  to  do 
had  been  done,  than  he  had  ever  had  to  make  her 
believe  anything,  since  he  had  first  met  her  in  his 
plausible  college  days.  For  once  Christine  was 
unconvinced.  He  did  his  best  to  be  obvious  and 
she  rejected  his  effort,  saying,  "  You  cannot  be  in 
your  right  mind  to  stay  up  here  alone,  with  noth 
ing  to  do !  Doctor  Wylin  would  be  far  more  exer 
cised  about  your  apathy  than  he  ever  was  about 
your  energy." 

"  But  I  am  doing  things,"  he  pleaded.  "  I  have 
got  six  months  of  back  work  to  catch  up." 

"But  why  here?    You  have  always   hated  the 


THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS  487 

quiet  here,  even  in  summer  with  the  house 
crowded,"  she  objected. 

"  The  reason  I  like  it  now  is  very  simple.  I  can 
work  so  much  faster  uninterrupted."  She  read 
her  own  conclusion  without  his  words. 

"  You  are  very  much  changed,  Raleigh.  What 
has  changed  you  ? "  she  asked  sharply,  suspecting 
him  of  fending  her  off  and  hurt  by  his  inclina 
tion. 

"  Perhaps  my  long  stay  in  the  woods  unfitted  me 
a  bit,  to  take  the  first  plunge  into  the  whirl  of 
city  life  again." 

"  It  ought  to  be  the  very  time  when  you  are  mad 
for  it!" 

"  I  seem  to  have  lost  my  taste  for  the  scramble, 
for  the  moment.  It  will  come  back.  I  am  very 
comfortable  here,  and  I  had  meant  to  give  myself 
a  chance  to  accomplish  some  quiet  brain  work, 
before  I  opened  my  winter  campaign." 

"  I  do  not  believe  one  word  you  are  saying ! " 
she  cried.  "  You  are  lying  low  for  some  unprece 
dented  '  coup/  Own  up  that  you  are !  " 

He  deprecated  her  prediction  with  a  genuine  de 
nial.  "  I  am  working,  catching  up  the  dropped 
threads,  and  exercising, —  that  is  all,"  he  confessed. 
Even  with  Christine  he  was  prudent. 

"That  is  not  all,"  she  said,  accenting  the 
all,  "  unless  you  are  really  down  and  out  physi 
cally." 


488  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

"  On  that  score  there  is  nothing  to  worry  about," 
he  assured  her.  "  I  am  even  now  dictating  the 
policy  of  one  or  two  strenuous  new  companies  here 
and  abroad,  on  a  gigantic  scale  of  combination, 
capitalised  up  in  the  multi-millions.  I  am  also 
outlining  the  duties  of  several  newly  appointed 
members  of  the  general  Consular  service,  who  do 
not  in  the  least  know  their  job,  or  what  is  expected 
of  them." 

"  Everything  comes  your  way ! "  Christine  mur 
mured  with  delight.  "  The  government  will  wake 
up  some  day  and  realise  whose  hand  is  the  power 
behind  the  machine.  They  ought  to  be  dreaming 
it  now,  and  soon  open  their  eyes." 

"  Oh,  this  is  nothing  of  any  account,"  he  said. 
"  These  lads  are  sent  over  to  outlandish  places, 
without  training  as  to  their  rights  or  functions, 
and  unfamiliar  with  everything  from  the  geography 
of  the  country,  to  its  language  and  law.  Their 
fathers  were  useful  in  matters  best  known  to  the 
administration,  and  honours  were,  accordingly,  easy 
for  the  sons.  If  I  were  Secretary  of  State,  or 
Foreign  Affairs,  I  would — "  Christine  drew  a 
sharp  breath. 

"  You  ought  to  have  it  and  you  will  some  day," 
she  broke  in.  "  Ever  so  many  men  have  said  so. 
Senator  Fordyce  told  Jim  you  would  get  the 
Treasury  appointment  now,  if  you  were  not  so 
young.  It  is  only  that  which  stands  in  your 


THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS  489 

way !  How  Stephanie  [could  be  such  a  blind  baby 
as  not  to  see  the  glory  of  you!  And  to  throw 
what  little  power  she  had,  into  your  scale!  You 
must  let  me  speak,  Raleigh  " —  she  protested,  as 
he  drew  dissenting  brows.  "  I  have  kept  still  too 
long  already,  until  it  is  too  late  to  be  of  real  prac 
tical  service  to  her  or  to  you,  I  am  afraid.  But  I 
do  hope  and  pray  that  you  are  not  going  to  sit 
down  and  mope  and  mourn  over  her.  Let  her 
come  or  go!  What  is  it  to  you?  A  woman  is 
only  good  to  supplement  a  man,  to  amuse  him,  and 
rest  him,  and  make  him  believe  in  himself  in  the 
face  of  every  discouragement.  If  she  is  not  for 
this,  what  is  she,  but  a  drag  upon  him?  You  are 
a  man  to  whom  the  country  looks  for  shining  serv 
ice,  because  your  honour  is  untarnished  and  unap 
proachable.  Senator  Ellerson  called  you  the  Gal 
ahad  of  politics,  at  the  New  England  dinner,  and 
everybody  applauded.  Never  let  yourself  be  un 
horsed  by  a  woman  who  cannot  appreciate  the 
pride  of  her  position  as  your  wife.  Who  cannot 
give  you  a  free  rein  now  on  the  winning  stretch 
in !  Why,  look  at  Jim !  " 

"  Yes,  you  have  made  Jim,"  Raleigh  admitted. 
"  You  have  a  right  to  say  this." 

"  I  have  not  un-made  him,"  she  claimed  with  a 
sweet  modesty. 

"  He  is  one  of  the  most  trusted  lawyers  in  New 
York  to-day,  or  in  America,"  he  stated  as  if  it 


490  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

was  a  mere  fact,  needing  no  re-inforcement  from 
him. 

"  He  has  gone  ahead,"  Christine  said,  with  a 
brilliant  smile,  fond  as  it  was  proud. 

"  He  certainly  has,  and  he  will  be  Attorney 
General  before  he  dies,  if  you  keep  after  him  and 
his  health  holds  firm." 

"  Do  you  believe  it,  Raleigh  ? "  Her  eyes 
flashed,  but  she  added  quietly,  "  I  would  not  pre 
dict  improbabilities,  if  I  were  you, —  even  to  please 
an  old  friend.  And  do  not  repeat  it  to  any  one 
else,  for  fear  they  might  think  your  own  judg 
ment  less  trustworthy  where  your  personal  friends 
are  concerned."  How  she  guarded  him,  even 
against  her  own  interests !  He  was  deeply 
touched  by  this  evidence  of  her  unremitting  jeal 
ousy  for  his  attainment. 

"  Own  up,  Chris,  you  have  it  at  the  back  of 
your  own  mind  ?  "  he  insisted. 

"  In  my  dreams,  perhaps." 

"  And  why  not  ? "  he  sighed,  for  the  first  time 
showing  his  depression  openly.  "  There  is  no 
door  shut  before  a  man  with  a  wife  who  lives 
his  life,  as  you  do  with  Jim.  You  women  have  it 
all  in  your  own  hands,  after  all." 

"  That  we  do  not  is  proven  by  the  [case  in  point," 
she  dissented.  "  But,  Raleigh,  do  not  let  Ste 
phanie  drag  you  back.  Go  on!  Go  on  alone! 
Stephanie  can  add  nothing  to,  and  take  nothing 


THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS  491 

from,  your  success.  The  goal  is  almost  within 
reach  and  you  must  not  let  your  private  affairs 
blur  your  public  sense.  She  does  not  understand 
or  accept  our  American  interpretation  of  love  or 
life.  Let  her  take  her  own  little  personal  share 
of  this  big  universe,  and  gratify  her  own  little 
selfish  joy.  She  cannot  rise  to  you!  She  cannot 
even  appreciate  your  height  enough  to  spare  you 
the  only  vague  reflection  on  your  honour  it  has 
ever  known, —  the  natural  imputation  of  her  leav 
ing  you  now." 

"  I  have  failed  with  Stephanie,"  he  said.  It  was 
the  first  admission  of  failure  he  had  ever  made  in 
his  life. 

"  It  is  not  too  costly  a  failure,"  she  said  heartily, 
"  but  for  Jim's  sake  as  well  as  your  own,  the  world 
must  not  be  enlightened  as  to  the  actual  predica 
ment  we  find  ourselves  in.  Jim  is  worried  to  death 
over  Lawrence.  He  says  it  needs  only  the  slight 
est  pressure  suddenly  applied,  or  removed,  to  set 
him  off  after  Stephanie  hot  foot.  Forgive  me  for 
speaking  of  it,  but  of  course  we  know  he  is  mad 
over  her.  He  says  nothing.  But  we  do  not  have 
to  be  told.  That  is  in  the  Trent  blood.  Deny 
them  anything,  and  that  is  the  one  thing  they  will 
have,  if  they  pull  the  world  down  on  their  heads 
to  get  it.  They  are  born  so.  Jim  says  something, 
not  principle  or  conscience  alone,  is  holding  Law 
rence  off,  now  that  Stephanie  is  out  of  reach  and 


492  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

away  from  Sky  High.  He  cannot  find  out  what 
it  is,  or  get  any  hint  of  it,  even  with  his  training 
for  evidence.  He  thinks  this  money  she  has  in 
herited  would  only  hold  Lawrence  back,  but  know 
ing  Lawrence,  I  think  if  once  he  overcomes  her 
past  — " 

"  Her  past  ?  "  Raleigh  repeated  involuntarily. 

"  Yes,  of  course,  her  having  been  your  wife. 
My  idea  is  that  if  Lawrence  gets  past  the  sin  of 
that,  he  will  not  stop  for  a  mere  detail  of  money. 
Any  one  can  make  money,  there  is  no  especial 
force  in  that  for  an  American.  So  we  must  count 
on  you  to  assert  yourself  and  avert  a  catastrophe, 
—  under  the  surface  of  course,  where  it  will  all 
sink  peacefully  down  to  oblivion."  In  vain  Ra 
leigh  reassured  her  as  to  the  groundlessness  of 
her  fears.  She  would  not  go. 

"  Why  do  women  always  delight  in  imagining 
a  ghost,  Chris?  Suppose  Trent  did  have  a  pass 
ing  fancy  for  Stephanie?  Most  men  have.  And 
he  will  never  throw  away  his  life  for  another  man's 
wife.  Go  home  to  the  children  and  sleep  in 
peace ! " 

"  Well,  if  I  do,  will  you  come  down  and  talk  to 
Lawrence  ?  "  She  was  for  any  bargain,  it  seemed, 
that  drew  him  away  from  this  solitude. 

"  I  have." 

"Then  you  two  do  understand  each  other?  I 
supposed  you  did." 


THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS  493 

"  Yes." 

"  And  you  are  not  concealing  anything  from 
me?" 

"  Nothing  but  the  full  force  of  my  admiration." 
At  that  she  rose  and  gathered  her  cloudy  furs 
about  her.  The  bright  gold  of  her  hair  set  her 
devoted  face  in  more  striking  relief  for  the  high 
contrast.  She  might  have  been  the  radiant  god 
dess  of  the  success  he  worshipped,  as  she  stood 
there,  so  brave  and  undaunted  and  self-forgetting 
in  her  determination  to  help  the  universe  spin  on. 

"  Stephanie  is  my  wife  and  Uncle  Randall  is 
with  her.  Everything  is  safe  and  conventional," 
he  said.  "  We  shall  be  as  good  friends  as  ever 
one  of  these  days  when  I  have  time  to  run  over 
and  make  up  with  her.  I  have  neglected  her  a  bit 
savagely  of  late.  But  do  not  worry  about  us,  and 
do  not  let  Jim  magnify  his  brother's  wounds. 
They  are  only  skin  deep.  You  know  that  really 
the  only  person  who  cannot  jest  at  wounds  is  he 
who  never  shows  a  scar, —  if  the  poet  did  reverse 
his  opinion  on  that  matter.  Young  Trent  took  his 
orders  like  a  veteran.  There  is  nothing  to  worry 
about,  you  see,  after  all." 

"  It  is  no  matter  whether  I  worry  or  not,  if  you 
only  will  not !  "  she  persisted,  giving  him  her  hand. 
"  Too  much  depends  on  you,  to  let  anything  any 
woman  can  do  weaken  your  power." 

Without    realising    what    he    meant    to    do,    he 


494  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

stooped  and  kissed  the  hand  within  his  own.  Her 
simple  nobility  humbled  him  and  shamed  preten 
sion. 

"  The  mills  of  God  do  grind  fine,  Chris,  but  we 
grind  them  ourselves,  that  is  the  worst  of  it.  I 
lost  you  through  my  besetting  sin.  Once  I  was 
blind.  It  was  on  the  start  and  I  have  been  well 
paid  for  it.  I  can  only  say,  '  they  who  win  heaven, 
blest  are  they ! '  Give  my  love  to  Jim,"  he  added, 
ashamed  of  his  burst  of  sudden  feeling.  He  stood 
on  the  steps  as  she  was  driven  away,  strangely 
shaken,  and  unable  to  account  for  his  weakness  in 
experiencing  such  rare  emotion. 

Imperceptibly  the  days  slipped  by.  It  was  nearly 
a  month  since  his  strange  interview  with  Stephanie 
and  Lawrence  Trent  at  the  Squirrel's  Nest,  while 
the  fantastic  moonlight  wove  its  arabesques  about 
their  feet.  He  was  at  loss  to  account  for  the  spell 
that  had  been  laid  upon  him.  A  sort  of  lethargy 
robbed  the  hours  of  desolation  and  bound  him  to 
the  place  inexplicably. 

He  came  in  later  than  usual  from  his  tramp  in 
the  dusk  one  evening,  and  the  incongruity  of  his 
inertia  struck  him  forcibly  for  the  first  time.  He 
had  been  turning  over  in  his  mind  his  own  course 
toward  Stephanie,  as  he  walked.  The  night  be 
fore  he  had  read  over  the  lyrics,  and  their  poetic 
imagination  sounded  so  fatally  like  intimate  cer- 


THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS  495 

tainty,  he  had  reluctantly  been  forced  to  put  the 
worst  interpretation  upon  their  bearing  on  Ste 
phanie's  truth.  No  man  reading  them  could  but 
believe  them  compromising.  And  how  else  was  he 
to  justify  himself?  And  if  they  were  what  they 
now  seemed  to  him,  why  should  she  not  meet  re 
morse  with  remorse,  and  let  the  past  be  decently 
interred  between  them  forever?  What  if  he  went 
to  her,  declared  himself  at  fault?  Could  he  do 
it?  It  was  what  Steven  Randall  seemed  to  exact 
of  him.  Perhaps  she  wanted  him  to  think  her 
false,  was  exciting  him  to  divorce  her  under  any 
pretext.  She  would  have  denounced  him  when  he 
accused  her  before  Trent,  had  she  not  cared  too 
much  for  him  to  risk  the  issue  then.  Of  course 
it  was  for  the  lover  not  the  husband  her  tongue 
had  frozen. 

His  indecision  enfeebled  his  action  increasingly. 
Stephanie  was  the  only  woman  whose  personal 
charm  lured  him.  What  if  he  swept  all  other  con 
siderations  aside  and  bent  his  knees  to  her,  suppli 
cating  to  be  taken  back,  and  given  one  chance  only 
to  show  her  that  he  really  loved  her  as  she  would 
be  loved? 

He  almost  decided  that  he  would  this  after 
noon,  as  he  tramped  the  little  forest  with  her  faint 
figure  flitting  before  his  inward  vision.  But  what 
right  had  she  to  conceal  her  past  from  him?  To 
let  him  play  the  knave  and  fool  before  her,  and 


496  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

mask  it  out  with  him  to  the  very  end?  She  had 
been  deceitful  surely,  if  not  unfaithful.  She  had 
listened  to  the  first  soft  voice  that  sued  after  mar 
riage,  and  why  not  before  ?  And  of  all  people,  . 
she  whom  he  had  burned  to  distinguish,  knew  his 
one  secret,  and  the  price  of  his  honour  would  al 
ways  stare  at  him  through  her  eyes,  though  all 
the  world  acclaimed  him.  He  went  back  pains 
takingly  over  his  career,  step  by  step.  It  had  been 
his  pride  that  his  life  was  free  of  the  random 
loves  of  other  men.  From  his  first  sight  of  Ste 
phanie,  and  ensuing  disloyalty  to  Christine,  there 
had  been  no  other  woman  in  his  life  for  whom  he 
must  blush.  That  score  was  clean.  He  had  pre 
served  the  integrity  of  his  body.  In  the  matter 
of  the  poems,  he  had  only  followed  his  habit  of 
extorting  from  life  whatever  tribute  there  was  to 
be  collected:  yielding  to  his  temperamental  crav 
ing  for  diadems  rather  than  giving  way  before  an 
overwhelming  temptation.  The  publication  of  the 
lyrics  had  not  been  a  necessary  link  for  his  sig 
nificant  distinction.  They  afforded  only  an  addi 
tional  laurel  for  him  to  lay  at  Stephanie's  feet. 
The  unimportance  of  the  value  for  which  he  had 
made  his  mistake  was  insolent  in  its  increased  pro 
portions  now.  It  was  having  its  chance  to  deal 
with  him  heroically  too,  in  his  perception  of  the 
importance  of  human  relations,  viewed  with  an 
added  insight  gained  by  intense  introspection. 


THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS  497 

Out  of  it  all  rose  a  feeling  of  outrage  against  the 
snare  spread  for  him  in  his  own  nature. 

The  malign  influence  of  his  choice  left  the  world 
untouched.  It  was  only  within  him  that  the  ty 
ranny  of  secret  fault  was  exercised.  Yet  Ste 
phanie,  of  all  the  wide  ignorant  world,  was  the  one 
who  knew !  And  this  had  separated  them.  The 
long  unfolding  of  his  energies  had  come  to  nought 
because  of  the  false  kernel  of  his  inmost  heart. 
He  had  not  been  instinctively  on  the  safe  and  right 
side,  when  the  hidden  temptation  had  crept  upon 
him.  The  repeated  habit,  which  was  character  in 
all  men,  had  not  resisted  the  appeal  to  take  one 
more  laurel,  from  a  dead  man's  hand,  from  which 
there  remained  no  impress  leading  to  identifi 
cation.  Raleigh  equivocated  even  yet,  between  the 
evil  of  Stephanie's  discovery  of  him,  and  the  im 
port  of  his  own  wrong-doing.  He  had  held  love 
as  something  to  be  done,  rather  than  believed  or 
loved.  He  had  turned  his  life  from  poetry  to 
prose  on  this  conviction.  He  had  prospered  be 
yond  all  expectation.  And  yet,  at  thought  of  the 
woman  he  loved,  he  was  disheartened  by  a  strange 
sense  of  loss  of  all  that  kept  life  warm,  of  com 
panionship  and  physical  hope,  and  a  lonesomeness 
of  darkness  and  alien  lands  settled  over  him. 
She  was  lovely  and  young  and  a  stranger  in  his 
country,  and  he  had  loved  her  in  his  own  way, 
without  suspicion  of  his  harshness  to  her,  until 


498  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

she  had  ceased  to  desire  his  affection.  In  the  bare 
sense  of  having  loved  her  he  seemed  to  find  his 
only  solace  now.  He  recalled  phrases  of  hers,  mo 
tions,  touching  images  from  their  first  bewildering 
intimacies.  He  often  dreamed  of  her,  and  now 
her  shadow-presence  like  far  away  music,  or  the 
forms  of  sleep,  passed  before  him  waking,  always 
with  averted  face  but  always  retaining  the  old 
seductive  sweetness.  He  extenuated  his  crime  of 
the  lyrics  again,  by  admitting  that  if  the  crisis  of 
his  decision  had  been  a  great  one,  if  he  had  met 
it  in  open  arena  as  a  wrestler,  he  should  have  re 
pudiated  the  first  hint  of  dishonour.  But  it  had 
come  upon  him  as  easily,  unconsciously  as  the  hour 
of  the  day.  The  climacteric  moment  was  met  and 
passed,  and  his  life  changed  forever,  while  he 
scarcely  knew  the  hands  had  been  moving  across 
the  clock  of  his  fate.  And  to-night  he  felt  the  im 
port  of  Stephanie's  removal  of  herself  from  him  as 
an  unworthy  creature.  And  he  knew  that  not  to 
have  instinctively  chosen  the  straight  course  was 
to  have  failed  at  the  crucial  point  and  opened  his 
life  to  the  enemy. 

But  whom  had  he  wronged?  No  one, —  and  it 
was  to  cost  him  the  joy  of  life!  No,  no,  he  had 
not  failed.  She  was  his  wife  still.  He  would 
make  her  see  how  it  had  all  come  out  of  his  pas 
sion  to  distinguish  her.  No  woman  could  resist 
that  appeal.  He  would  delay  no  longer.  He 


THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS  499 

would  go  to  her,  would  dominate  her, —  would 
forgive  her —  Here  he  stopped  short.  And 
he  knew  he  could  never  forgive  her,  because  he 
had  wronged  her,  and  she  had  not  wronged 
him. 

That  was  the  crux  of  the  whole  matter.  That 
was  what  kept  him  agreeing  and  disagreeing  with 
consecutive  schemes  of  severity  or  reckless  self- 
reproach.  It  was  absurd  of  old  Wylin  to  suppose 
him  capable  of  losing  his  nerve,  whatever  hap 
pened  to  him.  A  man  with  such  iron  physique  as 
he!  Every  day  he  walked  further  and  faster  in 
derision  of  such  an  idea.  The  break  with  Ste 
phanie  had  not  acted  as  a  sedative  exactly,  but  he 
was  good  for  it,  he  told  himself.  He  was  un 
reconciled  to  Steven  Randall's  having  turned  his 
back  on  his  own  blood,  but  no  one  was  the  wiser 
for  his  domestic  annoyances.  If  he  felt  a  slight 
indisposition  to  the  fray,  which  had  been  enough 
to  startle  Christine,  he  felt  himself  cured  to-night, 
and  ready  to  face  and  solve  the  question  once  for 
all,  that  had  been  so  persistently  harrying  him. 
He  had  practically  made  up  his  mind.  Inclina 
tion  and  expediency  counselled  the  same  perfec 
tion.  Stephanie  he  would  not  live  without.  The 
certainty  that  Trent  wanted  her,  and  the  uncer 
tainty  as  to  what  Nicholas  Heathleagh  might  have 
meant  to  her,  barbed  him  on  the  elemental  male 
passion  .of  jealousy,  stronger  than  universal  prin- 


500  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

ciple  or  rational  design.  The  depression  over 
nothing  in  particular,  that  had  been  weighing  him 
down,  seemed  lifted.  He  ate  his  dinner  with  a 
woodman's  appetite  and  drank  a  bottle  of  choice 
claret  with  a  joy  in  the  flavour  that  impressed  him 
as  a  good  sign.  The  morning  papers  did  not  get 
to  Sky  High  until  evening,  which  alone  showed 
the  difference  in  his  avidity  for  the  news, —  and 
the  mail  came  but  once  a  day  in  winter,  unless  he 
sent  a  man  over  for  it, —  five  miles  and  back, — 
which  he  always  did.  As  he  sat  smoking  before 
the  library  fire,  he  heard  the  sleigh  driven  in  from 
the  post  office  as  usual,  and  Neptune  whinnying 
for  his  belated  feed.  The  mail  was  brought  in  at 
once,  as  methodically  as  if  Steven  Randall  himself 
were  in  command.  Raleigh  wondered  idly,  since 
his  uncle  trained  servants  so  well,  how  he  would 
have  come  out  with  a  wife,  if  he  had  attempted 
one.  He  called  the  man  back  to  send  a  message 
to  the  stable,  chatting  with  him  in  the  hearty  way 
that  made  him  so  popular  with  all  who  served 
him,  then  opened  his  papers.  But  as  the  servant 
stepped  back,  to  ask  some  direction  further  for 
the  next  day,  a  sudden  purpose  animated  him  to 
add  a  positive  order  for  the  sleigh,  to  catch  the 
morning  train.  After  all,  he  had  done  all  he  had 
accomplished  for  Stephanie, —  why  should  he  lose 
her  now?  She  would  accept  that  excuse.  Any 
woman  would.  Again  his  jealousy  flamed  up. 


THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS  501 

She  was  his.  No  other  man  might  dare  to  touch 
her  unless  he  threw  her  away. 

"Was  that  all,  sir?" 

The  servant's  voice  drew  him  back  to  realities. 

"  That  is  all, —  at  least  if  I  decide  otherwise  I 
will  send  word  to  you  in  time,"  he  said  in  dis 
missal.  Again  he  took  up  his  papers.  He  tried 
the  stock  market  first.  Steel  was  up,  there  were 
other  phenomenally  lucky  lifts  in  the  stocks  that 
interested  him.  The  foreign  dispatches  of  the  as 
sociated  press  came  next,  then  the  day's  progress 
at  the  heart  of  his  own  government.  He  but 
glanced  at  the  editorials,  preferring  his  own  opin 
ions,  and  as  he  turned  the  page  his  eye  fell  by 
chance  upon  the  sailing  lists. 

Sailing  to-day  —  he  read,  without  caring,  or 
purposing  to  read  on  —  Killian  L.  Millish,  wife 
and  attendant. 

— "  So  old  Millish  has  played  out  and  Wylin 
has  got  him  off  at  last ! "  he  interpolated.  And 
he  continued  to  read  down  the  list,  idly  making 
his  own  comment  between  the  lines  as  he  did  so. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Julian  Kemper,  daughters  and 
maid. 

— "  The  people  who  bought  Christine's  old  house 
in  town  " — 

Mrs.   Mary  Massey. 

— "  She  buried  Massey  last  week, —  poor 
girl!"- 


502  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

Honourable  C.  D.  Hemminway. 

— "  He  is  over  for  raw  silk  concessions  " — 

Franklin  Daggert. 

— "  Bill  Daggert's  son  who  married  an  act 
ress  "— 

Ordway  VanNess. 

— "  Crossed  with  him  in  September  " — 

Lawrence  Trent  3rd. 

He  read  no  further.  Trent  had  followed  her 
then.  That  settled  it.  He  would  go  at  once.  He 
sat,  how  long  he  never  knew,  going  to  and  fro  in 
his  mind  over  that  turning  place  in  his  life  where 
the  roads  had  parted,  and  this  present  juncture, 
where  they  would  unite,  or  separate  never  to  meet 
again.  The  official  seal,  conspicuous  on  the  en 
velope  lying  at  the  top  of  his  pile  of  disregarded 
mail,  drew  his  straying  glance  at  last.  He  had 
work  to  get  through  if  he  left  on  the  early  morn 
ing  train.  He  opened  the  letter  that  came  first, 
without  a  hint  of  its  contents,  and  read  without  a 
tremour  his  own  appointment  to  the  vacant  place 
in  the  Cabinet,  tendered  him  in  secrecy  and  oblig 
ing  his  immediate  presence  in  Washington. 

He  plunged  into  his  papers  and  worked  till 
dawn,  the  old  fire  in  his  veins  unabated,  his  pri 
vate  griefs  stifled  by  the  public  call. 

It  was  daylight  when  he  arose  from  his  desk. 
All  was  done.  He  drew  himself  up  wearily  but 
without  a  trace  of  lassitude.  He  looked  older  than 


THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS  503 

in  the  summer,  but  the  chestnut  hair  on  his  full,  low 
brow  was  untouched  by  a  single  thread  of  grey. 
His  eyes  were  unmarred  by  the  night's  work,  lus 
trous  and  clear  as  those  of  other  men  after  nine 
hours'  sleep.  He  was  handsome  and  untarnished 
as  the  winter  morning  itself,  as  he  stood  for  a  mo 
ment  reconsidering  his  future.  Had  he  really  in 
tended  to  humble  himself  —  allow  himself  to  be 
drawn  from  his  appointed  orbit  by  a  woman? 
Women  hindered.  Why  should  he  allow  himself 
to  care  for  a  woman's  private  estimate  of  his  true 
worth  ? 

For  Stephanie,  love  would  suffice.  It  did  not 
matter  who  the  man  was,  if  he  was  her  lover, — 
or  indeed  if  he  was  nothing  more.  Let  her  be  daz 
zled  back  to  a  submissive  place  at  his  side !  It  was 
beneath  Raleigh  Payne  to  pursue.  He  had  always 
backed  himself  at  the  turning  stake,  why  should 
he  distrust  himself  now?  He  threw  up  his  head 
haughtily, —  and  frowned  to  find  himself  talking 
aloud.  Wylin  disapproved  of  that.  Again  he 
picked  up  the  letter  and  read  its  contents.  This 
appointment  had  been  his  star  in  the  East.  It  had 
beckoned  and  was  standing  still. 

He  forgot  remorse,  and  jealousy,  and  duty  to 
the  woman  he  had  sworn  to  cherish,  and  even  love 
itself,  as  he  put  back  the  heavy  crimson  curtains 
and  met  the  flush  of  dawn  over  those  cold,  white 
hills.  Unconsciously  then  he  wrung  his  hands  as 


504  THE  SIN  OF  ANGELS 

in  his  boyhood,  repeating  as  he  had  in  those  mo 
ments  of  half  sensible  reactions  of  joy  in  ambition 
all  but  within  his  grasp: 

"  I  may  have  lost  everything  else  most  men  hold 
dearest,  but  it  is  coming!  God  Almighty,  it  is 
coming !  —  It  has  come !  " 

And  the  sudden  jangling  of  discordant  sleigh 
bells,  calling  him  from  outside,  drowned  his  latent 
misgiving  in  their  pealing  clamour  of  applause. 


THE  END 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A  A      000284915    6 


